


Later in the Ashes

by Gabrielle



Series: Folly/Later in the Ashes/Boats Against the Current [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabrielle/pseuds/Gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Sequel to <i>Folly</i>* Willow discovers that a careless fling can have serious consequences as she struggles to fit back into her old life, and finds that some secrets just won't keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Later in the Ashes (Chapter One)

 

"Miss Rosenberg. I'm impressed. At last your work is reflective of someone who was accepted to Oxford." Maggie Walsh's voice carried through the large classroom and heads all turned towards the recipient of her rare praise.

A week ago, Willow would have felt alternating waves of pride and embarrassment. Today she was numb; not even a trace of her once-ubiquitous blush pinked her cheeks. She got up out of her chair and went to the front of the room to take her paper from the professor.

"Thank you." The words were perfunctory; she wasn't up to the pretense of forced enthusiasm and the complicated mechanics of approximating her trademark grin. She didn't really care about Walsh anyway. Truth be told, Willow didn't much care about _anything_.

Walsh, oddly, actually seemed to notice that Willow wasn't her usual self, which certainly set her apart from everyone else in Willow's life. "Are you alright, Miss Rosenberg?" She spoke in a low voice, obviously not intending for her question to be heard by the rest of the class.

"Yeah...I mean yes, Professor Walsh. I'm fine." With some effort, she managed a sort of smile. It seemed to be enough to pacify Walsh, who let her go back to her seat with no further enquiry. Still, there was a look on the woman's face that told Willow she needed to take pains in the future to stay under the radar. She wasn't, after all, in any shape to withstand much scrutiny.

The last few minutes of class went by in a blur, Willow becoming too preoccupied with the irony of her scholastic triumph to pay attention to what was being said. If only Walsh knew that the paper she so admired had been written in less than half an hour and with hardly a moment's thought, her need to get it finished for a class she'd only barely gotten home in time to attend making her heedless of quality. Willow couldn't even remember the specific topic - something to do with romantic love and its effects on the psyche - just that she had cobbled together a pastiche of other people's views and passed it off as her own perspective. As for her own opinions? She didn't have any, not anymore. Any illusory belief that she understood love or what it meant had melted in the white heat of fucking her best friend's soulmate; all the while she hadn't for one moment stopped loving Oz.

So what did that make her and what did it say about the kind of love of which she was capable? After all, it wasn't the first time she'd cheated on Oz. Was she just, deep down, a whore and a tramp? Or had her relationship with Oz always been an empty sham and she'd somehow known that subconsciously? Was that what had driven her first into Xander's arms and then Angel's bed: the search for something she'd never been consciously aware was missing? And anyway, why did she see what she'd done this time as cheating when Oz had left her without a backward glance after he'd done some true and undeniable cheating of his own?

The movement of her fellow students roused Willow from her depressing and pointless reverie and she gathered her things, following them out the door. For a moment it looked as if Walsh was going to buttonhole her, but thankfully, the professor seemed to change her mind and Willow proceeded unhindered. She'd never been more grateful to leave a classroom in her entire life, and she was even more grateful that this was her last class of the day. Maybe she'd head back to her parents house, spend some time alone, though her dorm was a reasonably good place to do that as well. A week ago, that thought had made Willow sad. Now? Now it still made her sad, but conversely, she was also relieved. Guilt made it difficult to be around Buffy for long, so it wasn't such a bad thing that her friend _wasn't_ inclined to spend much time with her. Riley was the be-all and end-all of Buffy's existence these days.

Of course, that last fact gave Willow some food for thought as well. Just how significant a betrayal of her friend was the sex she'd had with Angel when Buffy had slept with Parker and would probably be having sex with Riley sometime soon?

Without thinking, her hand went to her neck. Thank heavens she knew a glamour that worked. Angel's bite was still there and didn't seem to be healing nearly as quickly as Willow thought it should.

> _She could feel Angel's fangs pierce her skin, the sensation quickly becoming part of the ecstasy of her release. She'd never found pain sensual before - her long-ago jokes not withstanding - but now...now it was something exquisite, something that took her places Oz's touch had never taken her to before, for all that she loved and adored him. She cried out and held Angel's head to her throat, encouraging him to drink from her, lost in the delirious pleasure of him being inside her._

The memory brought a heated blush to her cheeks and shame to her heart. Remembering how wanton she'd been with Angel made her feel dirty. She could hear every word, feel every touch...it was so very wrong. Rationalizations aside, Angel was Buffy's and _her_ heart belonged to Oz. Why had sex with Angel been so incredible...so much _more_ than it had ever been with Oz?

Maybe it had been the intensity of his desire. Oz had never wanted her like that. She knew he had loved her once, still did if his last words to her were to be believed, but he'd never expressed the kind of lust Angel had, had never taken her so forcefully. Willow, in fact, had usually taken the lead when it came to sex. Oz had always responded, of course (except for that last terrible day), but sex between them had always been gentle and tender, never hot and desperate and needy, the way it had been with Angel. She'd never thought she was that kind of girl. Guess she'd been wrong about that.

> _Her nails dug into Angel's flesh as he thrust into her. She screamed his name. When things had turned from her trying to be the kind of lover Angel wanted into her actually *feeling* this heat and fire, she didn't know. All she knew was that it was too much, not enough, and she never wanted it to end._

Willow was startled from her troubling reflection by seeing a door in front of her, but not the door she'd intended to enter. Somehow, without realizing it, her steps had taken her, not to her parents' house, but to Giles's apartment. Seemed that the dutiful girl within hadn't perished in Angel's bed after all. Great. There went her desired afternoon of solitary brooding. With a start it occurred to her that she'd wanted to pass the rest of her day in much the manner as her erstwhile three-day stand. Maybe it was better that she'd come here instead, though it didn't actually feel that way.

Oddly, she almost knocked before she entered, an impulse she'd felt often in the few days she'd been back. It was if she were a stranger in her own life now. Three days in Los Angeles and somehow Sunnydale wasn't home anymore and her friends were awkward acquaintances. Funny thing that only Willow seemed to notice how the whole world had been transmogrified in such a short time. When had it happened - when she and Angel were fucking? Or was it afterwards? During those two days - those two disquieting days - where she'd lain in his bed, pained and sore, and she'd sensed that Angel wanted her to stay so much longer?

With a deliberate show of youthful energy, Willow opened the door and walked into Giles's apartment, trying hard to pretend that she was the same girl she'd once been.

Maybe she should have just turned around and gone home. The only person there was Spike, who was sitting on the sofa eating Wheetabix and watching TV. It was more than a bit disconcerting to see him free as a breeze with no Giles in sight. He might have been chipped, but her past experience made her more than a bit nervous of being alone with him.

He seemed to sense her apprehension. "Watcher's on the phone upstairs, Red."

"Oh. Guess I'll just be going then. Tell him I stopped by, okay?" She turned to leave, happy for the excuse to follow through on her original plan to spend some alone time. His next words stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't go. Not now that we're finally alone. What do you say? I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

What?!? "What did you say?" He was just being sleazy, wasn't he? She stopped her hand from moving to her neck. He couldn't be talking about..._that_...could he?

Spike got up and slunk towards her, his movements feline and almost predatory. "I said, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours.' So what about it? Where is it? Your thigh? Your breast?"

He was talking about _that_. "W-what do you mean?" She was stuttering now. Great. That didn't sound guilty at _all_.

"Red, you may be a clever girl, but you're a terrible liar. You know exactly what I mean. But if you insist on having it spelled out, then so be it. Where's the claiming mark you got from my sire?"

Why on Earth hadn't she just gone home instead of coming here? Why hadn't she at least turned around and left instead of coming in? Her life was over now. Like it or not, she'd end up back at Angel's soon. Because she'd have nowhere else to go.

Wait a minute...had Spike said _claiming_? Oh no.

"No use trying to keep up the pretense, you know. I can sense it. After all, we're practically family now. Though how this all came about without Angelus coming back, I can't imagine. Not like you haven't got the goods to make a man happy." He looked her over in a way that Willow found more disturbing than his ridges and fangs had ever been. She remembered the factory, and the night in her dorm room.

Willow looked upstairs to the closed door behind which was Giles - Giles, who could come down at any moment.

Maybe if she just gave in and showed him that the mark was in an innocuous location, she could convince him there was a perfectly innocent explanation for its presence. And maybe the Hellmouth would transform into a haven for fairies and elves and all the demons would reform and stop killing.

Still, foolish as her idea was, she had no other good options. She had to at least try to keep this conversation from reaching Giles's (or anyone else's) ears, and the best way to do that was to bring it to an end as quickly as possible. So she'd show him the bite. The attempt to con him, however, was something she might as well not even bother with.

She muttered a few words under her breath and the glamour dissolved, revealing the mark on her neck. Spike seemed a bit taken aback. Good. "There, are you happy now?"

"You're not a bad hand with the magic tricks, are you?"

A few more whispered words and the mark was invisible again. "You don't have to show me yours."

"Yeah, might be a bit tough to explain why I have my pants off if the Watcher happens to come down at the wrong time." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Willow blushed at his admission, not that she hadn't pretty much figured that his mark was in an intimate location, but still... What she really wanted was to ask about her own bite, and about Spike's use of the word 'claiming' to describe it, but she was too afraid. Spike was not to be trusted, after all.

His expression suddenly turned serious and a bit inscrutable. "Look, I'm not gonna share your little secret, okay? It's not like they'd believe me, anyway."

"So what do you want?" He'd been the one to insist on plain speaking? Fine, he was going to get it.

"You wound me. What makes you think I want anything?"

Willow snorted. He may have _said_ she was clever, but he obviously _thought_ she was an idiot. "Spike, don't insult my intelligence, okay? You never do anything for no reason. And you always want something. So what is it you want from _me_ in return for your generous offer not to go running to Buffy with the news that...that I..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Saying it out loud would make her feel worse than she already did.

Spike, however, had no such qualms. "That you shagged her one true poof? That he obviously feels more permanently attached to you than to her? My lips are sealed, pet."

If only that were true. But before she got the chance to quiz him further, the front door flew open to reveal Xander and Anya, carrying pizza boxes and seeming to have just finished bickering right on the heels of their arrival, at least if the frustrated expression on Anya's face was an accurate guide.

"Hey, Will." Xander's voice was pretend-cheerful, the way it always was these days when he spoke to her. She was this close to calling him on it. It's not like she didn't realize that Xander couldn't care less about her pain, that he had stopped giving a damn about five minutes after Oz left town.

"Don't worry, Xander, your luck still holds. I'm not going to talk about Oz, so you won't have to act like you care." She clapped her hand over her mouth the moment the last word had left it. Oh god. And here she'd thought that after holding off all this time, her resentment was under control. It seemed like that had been a pipe dream.

"Good. Because we're all pretty sick of your moping and complaining."

"An!" Xander whined.

"What? It's not like you've never said anything about it, just before we got here you..."

Within seconds, Willow's mouth wasn't the only one with a hand over it. Hers however, was more quickly freed for speech. "Don't worry about it, Xander. It's not like I didn't already know how you felt."

She couldn't think of anything else to say after that, so she grabbed a slice of pizza and sat down on the couch. Spike joined her in a trice, a slice of pizza of his own in his hand, his body between her and her so-called best friend, a friend who didn't seem to have anything more to say either, at least not to _her_. He and Anya soon adjourned to the kitchen, where Xander attempted to pacify his girlfriend. No orgasms for him tonight, Willow figured.

When had she started thinking like this?

So many sudden changes: brooding like Angel and snarking like Spike. Was what Spike said true? Could it mean that she was acting like this because she was family? Or was that just a convenient excuse for bad behaviour? She badly wanted to ask Spike about it, but it wasn't as if they could talk now, not with Xander and Anya a few feet away.

"Good on you, Red." Spike's voice startled her. "'Bout time you told the moron what for."

"I was way too harsh. I mean, I get why..."

"Nonsense. None of your friends have done right by you since Dogboy ran out of town like the mangy mutt he is. I was proud of you just now. Way you stood up for yourself? You should have done it ages ago."

This was becoming unsettling. Spike being chummy? Of course, it wasn't as if Willow actually _bought_ this sudden burst of bonhomie. It was just...she wanted to - wanted to very badly. It would be wonderful right now to have a confidant, someone she could talk to, could unburden herself to about everything. But that wasn't Spike, couldn't be Spike, and Willow was smart enough to know it. Wasn't she?

"Look, Spike. I appreciate the trouble you're going to in putting on this act and all. But I'm not falling for it. Tell Xander I wasn't feeling well, or don't tell him anything, but I'm leaving." Without giving him a chance to respond, she picked up her bag and headed outside into the sun where he couldn't follow her.

She decided against going to her parents' house. What with her outburst just now, she couldn't afford to indulge in any other suspicious behaviour. It wasn't as if she was actually counting on Spike to keep his word about keeping his mouth shut, so if he _did_ say anything, she needed to be believable in the role of the outraged innocent - good old reliable Willow.

But what if Spike _did_ stay silent? What if he _did_ feel some sort of friendship towards her? Was that just because of that horrible bite mark now hidden by the glamour? Or did he actually like her? And what sort of a friend would Spike be, anyway? What would he expect from her?

Thoughts like these were getting her nowhere, but that awareness didn't stop her from having them. The depressing roundelay continued all the way back to the dorm, in fact, and got Willow to a place no further than where she'd started. She had no answers and she was less sure of getting them than she had been when she first asked herself the questions.

She trudged up the stairs to her dorm room, wanting to make the journey last as long as possible, hoping against hope that Buffy wouldn't be there.

Of course, Buffy wasn't. There really hadn't been any danger of that. She was probably at Giles's apartment right now, hearing all about Willow's tantrum from Xander, with embellishments by Anya. Oh well. Willow would deal with that later, now wouldn't she? The same way she'd dealt with their irritation at her absence because of all the things she hadn't been doing for them while she was gone, an irritation mixed only with the most perfunctory worry and a curiosity easily satisfied by a paltry and feeble lie about a family emergency. Again - oh well. At least she'd be here when Buffy came back and she could stumble through some phony excuse for an apology. She snorted. Kudos to her for being a good enough actress to fool Buffy Summers. It didn't actually take much.

Strangely, however, she really would be lying through her teeth when she blushed her way through that litany of _mea culpas_ and promises to cheer up and start being a good little Willow again. She wasn't the least bit sorry for what she'd said to Xander, or for lying to them all.

Despite her automatic response to Spike's approbation of her outburst, she _did_ feel wronged by her so-called friends. Everything she was going through right now was their fault. Hell, what happened in Los Angeles was their fault. If they'd been supportive, if they'd cared at all, she wouldn't have been so lost and so desperate. She would never have driven off on a last ditch mission to find Oz and make him come back.

She would never have fucked Angel.

Willow knew she was being juvenile and self-pitying and unfair even as she thought all these things, but she couldn't help it. She was awash in a sense of neglect and abuse and, immature though she might be, she felt justified in indulging in her petty and spiteful reflections. Maybe tomorrow, after a good night's rest, she would be adult and clear-eyed and just in her feelings again.

It was far too early for sleep, however, no matter how tired and sad she was and how much she longed for midnight. No, it was barely twilight and, emotional fatigue aside, her mind and body were wakeful. And her mind was more than active.

> _"Do you wish it was Buffy who was here? You know, instead of me?" Willow regretted the question as soon as she asked it. The awkward silence that prevailed as she laid here in Angel's bed had made her tongue clumsy. _
> 
> "No."
> 
> Was he telling the truth? Even if he was, Willow was pretty sure she didn't believe him. More importantly, she didn't *want* to believe him.
> 
> She snorted lightly, trying to play it off like he was kidding and that she didn't care. "It's okay, Angel. I mean, you do love her and all and..."
> 
> His finger against her lips stopped her short. "I'm glad it's you."
> 
> Willow really didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to lie, to tell him she was happy it was him whose arms were around her, him with whom she'd had the best sex of her young life, but she knew he wouldn't believe her. And she couldn't be so cruel as to tell him the truth. So she stayed quiet and hoped he'd fill in the silence with something that didn't cause him pain.
> 
> She moved, then winced as she felt a twinge between her legs that reminded her why she hadn't left yet. Of course Angel noticed.
> 
> "Are you okay?" He sounded concerned, but there was a something in his eyes that didn't bear thinking about. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
> 
> "Some water would be good." She had almost asked for tea, but tea made her think of Giles and that led immediately back to Buffy, whose name she already wished she'd never spoken. Between feeling guilty about sleeping with her best friend's true love and feeling guilty about cheating on her *own* true love, Willow was having a hard time keeping a fresh onslaught of tears at bay. She figured Angel had dealt with too much of her weeping as it was.
> 
> "I'll be right back."
> 
> Willow watched as he got out of bed and left to fetch her a drink. He was still naked, just as she was, and her breath caught at the sight of him. He was...perfect. Not exactly the kind of guy she'd ever thought would want to have sex with Willow Rosenberg: Geek Extraordinaire.
> 
> And that brought up a whole lot of other thoughts. Like just how different the sex she'd had with Angel was from the way Buffy described the sex *she'd* had with Angel. Buffy had depicted her one night of lovemaking with Angel as sweet and tender and soft and romantic. Willow's experience with him was anything but. Was it because Buffy had been a virgin that he'd been so gentle, or was it that he loved Buffy and Willow was just...a safe fuck, a girl he felt sorry for because she was just this side of pathetic?
> 
> Of course, there was a problem with that last theory - Angel had implied that his feelings for Willow were something rather more than seeing her as a friendly one-night stand/pity fuck, and that *really* was a problem, though Willow wasn't completely sure why. After all, she'd be going back to Sunnydale as soon as her body allowed and Angel was sure to get over whatever this 'thing' was nearly as soon as she was out the door. And it wasn't as if either of them was going to go telling anyone about this...whatever it was.
> 
> So why did she feel a sense of foreboding?

Her hand went to the mark on her neck as she realized that her sixth sense had been right on target. Whatever feelings Angel had, he'd done something about them. Something that her brief conversation with Spike told her wasn't just going to fade away in a few days time as she'd wanted to believe. Something that was going to change her life forever, even if she never saw Angel again.

The threads of an old song about a fallen woman trailed through her mind, something about scorn and censure and a man as the cause of it all. Yeah, they had Willow pegged right, those Victorian balladeers. A century and more of so called progress, yet just like in olden times, it was the woman who would pay the cost.

Why? What had she done that was so different from what millions of other women had done and were doing with impunity? She'd had sex with Angel. Okay, maybe not the most ethical act, but still... How was it different from what Buffy had done with Parker? Why was Willow the only one who was going to suffer long-term consequences for a foolish but basically harmless indiscretion?

More questions without answers, at least without answers that wouldn't cause her even more anguish.

Willow collapsed on her bed and sobbed. What was she going to do?

Tbc...

_In case you were wondering, Willow is referring to an actual song. It's called "She's More to be Pitied Than Censured" and it was written in 1894 by William B. Gray._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow has no time to adjust to Spike's revelation as a phone call from Angel draws her back to Los Angeles.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Two)

 

The phone was ringing - the fact that it woke her up was Willow's first inkling that she had been asleep in the first place. Last she remembered, she'd been lying on the bed, having cried her eyes out, and was planning to head back to Giles's place to do some damage control. Guess that hadn't happened. What time was it anyway?

The room was dark, but she realized Buffy wasn't there as she reached over to answer the phone. "Hello?" she said, her voice groggy enough to tell her she'd been dozing for quite awhile.

"Doyle's dead."

The voice on the other end of the line shocked her awake and what he said had her sitting upright and reaching to turn on her bedside lamp in a trice. She squinted; the sudden burst of light hurt her eyes.

"What happened?"

"He was...there was a bomb and..."

Angel wasn't very coherent and Willow could only make out a few words, but they, and the tone of his voice, were enough to tell her what was important: Angel's best friend had just come to a horrible end. Willow knew better than most exactly what he was going through.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

The click at the end of the line before hearing a dial tone was her answer. Maybe it was rude, but Willow chalked it up instead to Angel being too overwhelmed for things like rational conversation or etiquette.

What a stroke of luck that Buffy was gone, because there was no way she could lie convincingly about this while having to look her erstwhile best friend in the eye. Willow went to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. A few scrawled words telling Buffy that her aunt had taken a turn for the worse and Willow had to return to see her in the hospital - hopefully, they would suffice. She _had_ told the others that it was her aunt who was the reason she'd had to take off in a hurry before, hadn't she?

Oh well, they hadn't paid close enough attention to tell the difference anyway and right now she didn't have time to care about making her cover stories match up. What she needed to do was grab some stakes, stuff them and a few essentials into a bag, drink as much high octane coffee as she could hold, and head to her parents' house to borrow the car again.

The first two tasks were easily accomplished and the third only required a walk down to the next floor and a knock on Rita's door - that girl never seemed to sleep. Willow was pretty sure that it wasn't coffee that kept her up, but at least she did have a pot of a rather potent brew on and was more than willing to share a cup and a thermos-full with Willow, who did her best to make it clear she was in a hurry while trying hard not to be rude.

"Thanks for the coffee. I'll let you get back to studying." She had her hand on the doorknob. Angel, after all, was waiting for her and she needed to get on the road.

"You sure you're gonna be okay with just that coffee?" The tone of Rita's voice was a patent 'wink-wink, nudge-nudge, know what I mean?' Willow had been right; Rita was not making her shimmy shake on tea. Best to just act like she was completely clueless.

"Yeah. And thanks again." She made sure her face held an expression of complete and utter innocence combined with a bit of confusion. "Hey, if you need any help later, you know, studying for finals or anything..."

"Nah, I'll be fine, but thanks, Rosenberg. See ya later."

Looks like Rita was convinced she was just too much of a goody two shoes to have around during her sort of study session. Thanks heavens for that. As an added bonus, the conversation was now over and Willow had made it out of Rita's room fueled by nothing stronger than caffeine. Thermos and duffel bag in hand, she headed out into the dark and unsafe Sunnydale night.

Years of living on the Hellmouth and fighting evil alongside the Slayer had honed her senses pretty well, and Willow could tell that there were a few vampires or other demons about, yet strangely enough, none of them seemed to want to get near her.

Maybe they thought she was one of those mysterious commandos. No, that was silly. But better that than what Willow suspected was the real reason: the bite mark on her neck. While the glamour hid it from humans, her encounter with Spike showed her that demons didn't need to see it in order to know it was there. Apparently, it wasn't just Spike who recognized her as a member of the 'Future Vampires of America.'

Still, as much as she wanted to be angry with Angel, how could she be right now? He had just lost Doyle, his seer, his confidant, a man who - from what Angel had told her last week - was the closest thing to a real friend he'd ever had. No, now was not the time for reproach and recrimination. He needed a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on, a...well, Willow wasn't so naive as not to know what Angel was _really_ seeking from her or to doubt for one moment that she'd give it to him.

Of course, what she didn't want to think about was just how much she _wanted_ to give it to him. She'd gone without sex for longer than a week often enough in her relationship with Oz, yet now a week seemed like an eternity. For all the pain she'd been in with Angel, she still yearned for how he made her feel.

Could it be the bite? Could that be the reason she was suddenly channeling her inner tramp? Oh how she hoped so, because otherwise she was just...shallow. A night of good sex - okay, _great_ sex - and she was suddenly ready to throw her morals right out the window. Not that _consoling_ Angel was immoral, but there were ways to console someone that didn't involve getting naked, and she wasn't even considering trying to convince Angel of their efficacy.

Goody, she was at the house at last, safe and sound and ready to 'borrow' the car again. She ducked inside for a moment to leave a note (basically the same as the one she'd left last time), grabbed the keys, and headed back to the garage. In a trice she was on the road.

Of course, once again, she'd forgotten to bring along any CD's and the radio, naturally, was playing nothing but cheesy pop ballads and snooze-inducing oldies. Why did they always play slow, sleepy music late at night anyway? Didn't they realize that people listening to the radio at this hour were usually drivers trying to stay awake? So far, the peppiest tune she'd found was "Brandy" and that wasn't exactly a toe-tapper. She was willing to settle for 80's hair metal at this point, but it was not to be found.

She resigned herself to soft rock and that thermos of coffee and tried valiantly to think about her upcoming finals. As much as she tried to work herself up into paranoia about them and run through questions in her head, it just wasn't happening. She was acing her classes, especially now that she'd accidentally figured out how to impress Walsh, and she could sleepwalk easily to straight A's on all her exams. She'd been a whiz at school and all its matins and lauds for too long to pretend it was difficult now. There went _that_ attempt at diverting her thoughts.

Her mind drifted right back to Angel, and sex, and Angel, and grief...which finally did lead to an effectively distracting topic, though hardly a happy one: Jesse.

She missed him. She missed him so much, and the guilt she felt about him and about how she'd neglected his memory was almost intolerable. So many years had gone by since she'd even spoken his name out loud. When was the last time she and Xander had mentioned him? They didn't even visit his grave, a lapse she knew full well she couldn't blame on the fact that he wasn't actually in it. They just neglected him, simple as that; drowning themselves in today and acting as if yesterday, and the boy who'd been so very much a part of it, meant nothing.

She wanted to cry, but crying and driving didn't mix. Besides, some part of her recognized tears as self-indulgent after all the time she'd left her memory of Jesse to moulder in the cold recesses of her mind. So instead, she focused on bringing that memory to life within her.

It was startling how easy it was to remember those lazy summer days at his house, laughing and talking and mocking the popular kids, while his mom made cookies and lemonade. Jesse's mother was so different from her own, or from Xander's. She'd even called when Jesse hadn't come home that terrible night. Willow's experience since had taught her that, unlike Jesse's parents, hers would not have noticed for months had she failed to come home after school. Jesse would have noticed, though.

He deserved a better friend - someone who thought about him every day, who cried on his birthday, who retold his favorite jokes, someone who called his mother on holidays and stopped by to check on her, someone who wasn't Willow (or Xander, for that matter). More than anything, what Jesse deserved was to still be alive.

A few tears escaped despite her best efforts to hold them at bay. How could they not? At least she was crying for Jesse, and not for herself. Every tear was a year of life he hadn't lived or one he never would, years in which he might have done so much good as a part of the Scooby Gang, years that might have led him to college, years full of adventure and achievement. Yet even if they hadn't led to anything lofty, even if he'd wound up a vagrant or a criminal, didn't he deserve those years anyway?

The freeway exit looming in front of her caught her by surprise. It felt like she'd just left Sunnydale, but here she was, almost at Angel's. Time to put Jesse back in the box at the back of her mind again, though she whispered a promise to him that he wouldn't stay there anymore. She would let him out every day. She owed him that.

Willow parked her car and got out cautiously, L.A. wasn't really any safer than Sunnydale in the middle of the night and it wasn't like Angel lived in the best part of town (though considering what she heard on the news, _no_ part of Los Angeles was the good part of town, except maybe Beverly Hills).

She went around to the passenger side, retrieving her bag and her thermos. When she closed the door and turned around, Angel was standing there. She stood for a moment, looking at him expectantly, but he said nothing. It was one of those small moments where she felt the difference between Oz and Angel so keenly. Oz's silence had been comforting and familiar and safe. Angel's? It made her nervous.

"So...umm...how are you?" She hated herself the moment the words left her mouth, so she tried to backpedal. "Dumb question, I mean Doyle just died and..."

"Let's go inside." He didn't seem upset with her; she wasn't sure what that expression on his face meant, but it wasn't irritation.

No sooner were they in the door, now shrouded in the quiet darkness of his office, and she was in his arms, held so tightly that she couldn't breathe.

"Thank you." He was glad she was here.

He let her go and she followed him to his room. She held no illusions about why they were headed there. It wasn't for conversation.

Those few words he'd spoken before did nothing to fill the silence now and Willow's nerves were about to get the best of her. She wanted to be there for him, but now she was no longer sure this was right at all. As much as she wanted him, wanted to help him through this horrible night, and as certain as she was that in his current emotional state, perfect happiness was impossible, a part of her screamed for her to run out the door, get in her car, and drive as fast as she could back to Sunnydale.

She wouldn't do that, though; not just because Angel now stood between her and the exit, but because she couldn't leave him like this. The pain he was in was palpable. He seemed almost to have aged, impossible as that was, grief creating the lines in his face that nature never would. She found herself staring, seeing these new things in him, changes in a visage that had gone unaltered for two centuries.

After a moment, she noticed he was staring at her as well. His eyes, however, were not on her face; they were on her neck, where the bite mark was hidden by her magick. His gaze had an intensity in it as discomfiting as his silence, perhaps more. He was obviously confused by not being able to see what he knew was still there.

An explanation might help defuse what was fast becoming tension. "It's a glamour. See?" She muttered a few words under her breath and he grew calmer. He could see the mark now. Which reminded her - as loath as she was to confront him at a time like this - they were going to have to have a serious talk before she went home. Spike being in on their secret made it a necessity.

That talk would not be happening anytime soon. Within seconds of undoing the glamour, she was in his arms again; this time he was kissing her, his intent obvious. She didn't object, or even try to slow things down. In a way, she was more comfortable with this than she was with the idea of conversation. Oddly, she realized now that she felt guiltier about the time she'd spent talking to Angel than she did about the sex at all. The sex was...well..._wrong_, but the conversation? That was an intimacy that truly infringed on his relationship with Buffy, and on hers with Oz.

Luckily, it didn't look like she'd have to think about that, or anything, for the time being. Angel's hands were skilled and he had her clothes off almost before she realized what he was doing. How had he gotten her sweatshirt over her head without her really noticing? She didn't even remember a break in their kiss.

Her jeans were on the ground around her ankles, waiting only for her to step out of them, which she did, shedding her bra and panties as well. A moment later he lifted her up and carried her right to the bed. He laid her down, looking at her for a long moment before ridding himself of his own clothes. Again, Willow stared. Pain-ravaged face or not, he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen...and he wanted her. That much was startlingly obvious.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he was lying next to her, an urgency in the way he was touching her. She kissed him, moaning into his mouth as his hands continued to roam over her body, then when his fingers found their way between her legs, readying her for his entry.

Still, she was surprised by his intrusion and she wasn't quite prepared. He was a good bit larger than Oz and, last week aside, she still wasn't used to him. Combine that with the rather hasty foreplay and she didn't immediately find things pleasurable. That fierce desire of his soon carried her along, however, and she was crying out his name as he thrust into her.

It wasn't the same as before. Once the initial discomfort had passed, there wasn't the pain of their first coupling. She had thought that he was heedless and desperate and maybe he was, but he was not the least bit out of control.

It was frightening. That much, at least, was familiar.

"Willow." His voice was low. "I need you."

She wondered why he said that. It made no sense. She was here, underneath him, he was inside her. What did he need that she wasn't already giving him? Was she not being responsive enough? Did he want to try a different position?

She tried to roll, in case he wanted her to be on top, but he growled. Guess that wasn't what he wanted. Funny, Oz had always liked that best. But not all men were alike, not even demons, she supposed.

Then his fangs were against her neck and she realized what he meant. No. Not again. The bite was taking too long to heal as it was. She shook her head, even as Angel's thrusts brought her closer to release and almost past caring.

Angel paid her no heed. Seconds later, his fangs slid right into the holes he'd created and Willow's orgasm hit her with the force of a cannon blast.

"Angel!" she screamed.

He was still inside her. Not finished yet, it seemed. He drove into her over and over, bringing her closer to another orgasm even as she was still feeling the aftershocks of the first one. It was too much. She wanted him to stop, but she didn't have the strength to fend him off.

Inside herself, she acquiesced, letting go and allowing him to do what he wanted. She couldn't deny that she was enjoying it. That scared her, too. Maybe that was why she'd wanted him to stop, the fact that she could see herself becoming addicted to the pleasure she felt with Angel.

She stopped thinking, her second orgasm hitting her harder than the first, her screams mixing with Angel's as he roared his release.

When it was over and she could breathe again, he was still on top of her. He was keeping his weight from crushing her, but he was still inside and above her and she felt...oppressed. In a moment though, he slid out of her and moved to lay beside her, putting his arms around her and holding her close. She still felt oppressed and she was ashamed of herself for that. Angel was grieving. He needed to touch and be touched, to hold and be held.

"He was a...he was a hero. He died saving..."

Justifications. Willow understood those. "It doesn't much matter, does it? I mean, they die saving the world or they have to die so the world can be saved. Either way, someone special is gone forever."

Angel looked into her eyes, puzzled, but there was something else there, too. He seemed almost...impressed somehow. Obviously he thought she was wise and insightful. She wasn't.

"Jesse."

"Who?" Now it was all puzzlement on Angel's part.

With a sick feeling in her gut, Willow realized that Angel had probably never even heard his name before. "My best friend. He died the night I met Buffy. Darla turned him. Xander had to stake him."

"Oh." What else could he say?

"What was Doyle like?" Willow figured that fresh grief should take precedence over that kept in cold storage for too many years.

"He was... He kept me on my toes. He tried..."

Angel had never been about words, Willow knew. Talking about someone he'd managed to become close to after years of holding everyone but Buffy (_and her_) at arms length had to be painfully difficult. What he said next, though...she wasn't prepared for it.

"He was in love with Cordelia."

She couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. It was obviously not the most appropriate reaction. Angel looked a bit upset and Willow knew she had to try to explain. "I'm sorry," she said with some difficulty through her laughter, "It's just...Jesse was in love with her, too, and it seems like..." She was overcome.

Angel stared at her. Minutes passed and Willow could only keep laughing. It turned to hysteria and Angel pulled her more tightly to him.

"Shhh. It's okay," he said as he held her, stroking her hair.

"No, it isn't," she finally managed. "This is supposed to be about _you_ and _your_ pain."

"It is."

Angel was, as ever, inscrutable. Willow wished she understood what he meant, but she couldn't stop crying and that made it hard to think.

Through it all, Angel just held her, kept stroking her hair. She could almost feel him thinking and at one point she thought he might have smiled ever so slightly. Probably a happy memory. She wished one of those would make _her_ smile. But they didn't. Even lighthearted memories like Jesse's hopeless crush on Cordelia made her ache, maybe because Xander had walked off with that prize instead, or maybe just because.

After awhile, her weeping dwindled to a few hiccupping sobs and eventually ceased altogether.

"Thanks," she said, colouring a bit with embarrassment at having been so emotional.

"Thank _you_."

Now Willow was the one who was puzzled. "What for?"

He smiled at her. It was a sad smile. "For being here. For letting me know I'm not alone."

The silence returned, but now it was more comfortable, though Willow wasn't quite sure why. She let herself get caught up in minutiae as she lay in the crook of his arm, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger. Angel's sheets were silk and that jarred her for some reason. It seemed incongruous. Last time...she tried to remember...she was pretty sure his sheets had been cotton last time. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean anything. But still, the observation dug itself a little trench in the back of her mind and burrowed in there, refusing to leave. She had a feeling it intended to bedevil her later.

"Spike knows." Again, Willow managed to say something clumsy. It was a habit with her, and not a good one.

"Does he now." It wasn't really a question and it bothered Willow that Angel seemed perfectly calm as he said it. Her head was now pillowed against his chest and he scarcely moved. His fingers were in her hair again and she felt a painful tug as she tried to perch herself on one elbow to face him.

He disentangled his hand from her hair. "Sorry."

"It's okay." But not everything was. "Angel, this is probably a really bad time, and I don't want you to think I'm angry at you or anything, but..."

"You want to know about the bite mark." Angel's face was impassive. Once again she was struck by how different he was from Oz at a moment where he was ostensibly so much like the boy she still loved.

"Yeah. Spike knew it was there even with the glamour and he called it a 'claiming mark' and said it meant we were practically family. I know he was lying, but..." Actually, she believed every word Spike had said, but she supposed that, deep down, a part of her still hoped. "I mean, he was, wasn't he?" Angel's face remained a mask and Willow's feeble hope died a horrible, gruesome death.

"Why, Angel?" The tears threatened to return.

"I don't know."

That wasn't true, and Willow knew it. But Willow believed him even as she knew his answer to be utterly false. She had no choice. The truth wasn't something she wanted to accept. Besides, now was not the time to be confrontational and cruel. Doyle was dead. Angel was mourning.

She had questions: Would it fade? What exactly did it mean? Could it be undone somehow? But, just as with anger, now was not the time or place for them.

She wondered if there ever _would_ be a good time to ask Angel about any of it. Would she have to ask Spike? Could she trust any answers he gave her? Was she capable of any sort of discernment after all the self-deception she was practicing even as she lay here?

Angel pulled her down to him for a kiss. He needed her again. That was okay. Willow was used to being needed, though not so much in a sexual way. She needed him, too - to chase away her own grief, to make the questions and the guilt disappear, to make her feel with her body and not with her heart, at least for a little while.

When it was over, and Angel was sated at last, perhaps she would sleep. Which was all right. It wasn't like her problems and questions had anywhere else to be. She'd be as filled with concern and uncertainty and anguish in the morning as she was right now. Was it wrong of her to allow herself a brief respite?

Whether it was or it wasn't, she did. Angel filled her again, his cool, hard body against hers creating a heat she didn't think she'd ever get used to, no matter how many times she shared his bed. Looking into his eyes, she saw pain and passion and so many things she couldn't quite understand. She wondered what he saw in hers.

 

Tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow comforts Angel and finds herself with a surprising new friend.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Three)

 

Worn out though she was, Willow couldn't close her eyes.

Angel was either asleep or pretending to be. Willow lay beside him - body still, mind restless. What was she doing? What had she gotten herself into? What kind of a woman could fuck one man eight ways from Sunday when she was sure she was still passionately devoted to another?

The answer to the last question was obvious: the kind of woman she saw in the mirror every day, whatever kind _that_ was.

She looked over at Angel, pain still evident on his face even with his eyes closed, and she felt guiltier than ever. Not only did she feel as though she was being unfaithful to Oz by being here with Angel, but she felt somehow unfaithful to _Angel_ for thinking of Oz while she was in _his_ bed. Maybe what she and Angel had wasn't really anything like a relationship, but she was here - with him - and Angel needed her, all of her. She owed him that much, though she wasn't quite sure why she felt she owed him anything.

Perhaps it was his grief - a grief he was being honest and true about in a way she'd not been with Jesse's death until it was too late to mean anything. That, at least, was a reason Willow was as comfortable with as she could be with _any_ reason.

There were, of course, other possibilities - possibilities far more selfish, possibilities that called into question so many things she believed about herself and about her life back in Sunnydale.

"What are you thinking about?" Angel's voice startled her right out of her rumination.

"Nothing."

The expression on his face conveyed utter disbelief. Now might be a good time to remember that not everyone was as easy to fool as her friends.

"Nothing important," she amended. He wasn't buying that either. Great. Had Angel been asleep at all? Because no one was this acute immediately upon awakening.

She needed to get away. Between guilt and the fear of what she might say and how it might hurt him, Willow was desperate to be anywhere but with Angel right now.

"I'm going to go take a shower, okay?" Angel nodded, so Willow got out of bed. She could feel his eyes on her as she went to her overnight bag and grabbed some sundries, underwear, and the nightshirt she'd packed. Force of habit. She wasn't used to sleeping naked, not even with Oz, though she'd done so the last time she was with Angel.

There was some pain as she moved, though not nearly as much as last time - more discomfort than pain, actually - but she figured a hot shower would fix her up as good as new. Her plans began to change. After all, she wasn't really very sleepy. Maybe she should just get back in her car and drive home; if luck was on her side, she could get back before anyone even realized she'd been gone.

She turned on the water. She'd noted last time with some surprise that it heated up quickly and it was the same tonight (or should that be: this morning?). Angel had a hidden fondness for creature comforts, she was discovering, for all his vaunted self-abnegation. Plentiful hot water, silk sheets, some rather expensive hair products...he was not quite the monastic creature she'd thought him to be.

Getting into the shower, she let the water wash over her, losing herself in the heat and steam and the smell of her body wash. She'd brought her own, along with her shampoo, of course, mindful of the need not to come home smelling like Angel. She'd been lucky last time, having a chance to shower at the dorms before seeing Buffy. She wasn't going to count on that luck again. She had a hunch Angel had been using the same products for some time and for all she knew, Buffy vividly remembered the smell of Angel's soap and shampoo. Who knew how strong Slayer senses were? And they _did_ share a dorm room - tight quarters.

She washed herself, being careful rubbing the cloth between her legs. She thought back on tonight, on the way she'd been with Angel. Maybe he hadn't let go with her the way he had before because _she_ hadn't let go with _him_. She'd been too ashamed, too disgusted with herself for giving herself to him with a passion she'd never shared with Oz. So she'd held back this time, and she felt guilty for _that_. She couldn't win.

Cold air hit her and she turned in surprise just as she felt another body close behind her. She wasn't alone in the shower anymore. She turned around.

"Angel, I..." Her voice was swallowed by his kiss and she soon felt the cool slickness of the tile against her back. She shivered; odd thing to feel cold in a hot shower.

"I missed you," he said, his mouth leaving hers. He smiled slightly, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those remained pools of pain. Willow was reminded of why she was here.

She said nothing, just reached down and wrapped her hand gently around his cock, stroking it slowly up and down. Angel hissed, his eyes flickering gold. They always seemed to do that with her. She wondered if it was that way with Buffy; her friend had never mentioned it. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean anything. She figured it could just be one of those details Buffy hadn't shared, though she'd shared so many others that Willow had blushed often during conversations with her friend.

Angel kissed her again, softly and more sweetly than he ever had before. It made her uncomfortable; this tenderness wasn't something she wanted from him. The way things had been, she could call it fucking and tell herself it meant nothing, but softness was what she'd shared with Oz, it was what she'd always considered making love to be. She didn't want to make love to Angel, not even now, when he was grieving and desperate and lost.

The kiss deepened, became more passionate, more aggressive, and her grip inadvertently tightened on his cock. She worried she'd hurt him, but Angel didn't seem to mind. He seemed to like it, in fact. It was obvious what was going to happen next.

Willow was still sore, and not ready to give in, to give herself completely the way she knew he would compel her to now. She let go of him and pushed him back slightly, then dropped to her knees. She took him in her mouth.

He was surprised, but hardly unwilling, his hands finding their way into her hair, gently guiding her as she began to suck his cock. Her movements were slow at first, and he seemed to understand that she needed to adjust. She'd done this for Oz before, but he wasn't as big as Angel. Also, she hadn't felt the pressure to perform that she felt now, though she knew it was self-created. She might tell herself that this was all about Angel needing her, but the truth was that it was all about Angel _wanting_ her - desiring her in a way she'd never been desired before, a desire she did not want to lose.

So she did her best to relax her throat muscles, to take more of him, and her efforts were not unappreciated. Angel's head lolled back, the water running down his face as his eyes closed; it was obvious he liked what she was doing. That aroused her. She wondered if he could smell just how much; he probably could.

His fingers tightened in her hair and he began urging her on, wanting her to take him faster and deeper. She obliged, wondering at the back of her mind if he'd expect her to swallow.

She never found out. So quickly that she could barely register what was happening, he pulled out of her mouth, then lifted her up. In seconds, she was facing the shower wall and Angel thrust into her from behind.

The shock of his entry made her gasp. She had no time to process what he was doing. His fingers found her clit; his thrusts were hard and strong. Before she even realized what she was feeling, she came - screaming his name at the top of her voice. Almost immediately, he followed, burying his teeth in the bite on her neck once more. The intensity of the feelings he elicited from her body was too much. Willow passed out.

She wasn't sure how much time had elapsed when she finally came to, but she was in Angel's bed again when she did. The feel of his hand against her cheek was surprisingly warm. The heat from the shower, she supposed. Leave it to her to think about such things at a time like this.

"Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes; they locked on Angel's. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You scared me." He smiled, trying to play it off, but his eyes were filled with fear, fear Willow had put there. She felt more than a little guilty about that, though really, it was hardly her fault she'd fainted.

She apologized anyway. "I'm sorry."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

She sat up awkwardly. "Oz and I never...not that way." Why had she said that? She'd just opened herself up to Angel in a fashion comparable to the physical abandon she'd felt so guilty about a week ago.

"Never?" She caught a fleeting glimpse of something smug passing across Angel's visage. It was gone in an instant, but she saw it just the same.

She felt compelled to defend the boy she loved. "He...it would have been too much like the wolf, you know? Besides, he always said he liked looking at my face when we made love...because I was so beautiful." There were tears in her eyes now.

"You _are_ beautiful." Angel leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet again; she couldn't keep the tears from falling. "But I don't need to be looking at you to see your face."

He seemed to want to say more and Willow was terrified. There was more going on between them now than she had ever intended, not that she'd ever _intended_ for there to be _anything_ between them.

" I..."

"It's okay," he sighed.

It wasn't okay - not for him, and not for her - but Willow was more than happy to avoid even the most shallow and superficial version of this conversation. More than two words would bring to light truths she'd prefer to leave buried in eternal darkness, truths she wasn't sure she could live with having to admit she knew.

Lying to herself - it was the _leitmotif_ of this...whatever it was.

Angel walked around the bed to the other side and lay down next to her, pulling the sheets and coverlet up over the two of them. Willow noted for the first time that there was a towel on her pillow. Angel was a very detail-oriented creature, and a fastidious one as well. No wet hair soaking his silk sheets. Funny, he seemed to have dried it a good bit as well. She must have been quite insensible not to have noticed. Was her orgasm the only factor in her fainting spell. Could Angel have taken too much blood as well?

She suddenly wasn't so sure that Angel's soul made him nearly as safe as they'd all been wont to believe.

Seemed she was more tired than she'd thought, too tired for intense reflection. She lay back down, shutting her eyes and allowing Angel to put his arms around her and hold her close, a part of her even willing to concede that she enjoyed it. The truth was that she hated sleeping alone. Thanks to Oz, she'd become unused to the solitude her parents' rearing had trained her to see as normal. She craved the feel of a body next to her own, of just knowing that someone would be right there with her when she awoke.

It felt as if it were only a moment later that she opened her eyes again, but something told her she'd actually been sleeping and that quite some time had passed. This was becoming a rather discomfiting habit, one she'd be more than pleased to break. Not for one second had she thought that the body in bed with her was Oz, and for a fleeting moment she knew she was okay with that, a thought that distressed her terribly. _Missing_ Oz was all she had left of him. If she lost that longing, she'd truly have lost _him_.

Angel's hold on her had loosened a bit and Willow believed he was slumbering himself now. So she gingerly disentangled herself and very slowly and quietly got out of bed. Her nightclothes were still in the bathroom, but Willow didn't go to retrieve them. Instead, she went to her overnight bag and got some clothes, slipping into her underwear, t-shirt, and peasant skirt as silently as she could manage, muttering the words to the glamour almost unconsciously as she dressed. After some thought, she slipped on her shoes as well.

She headed to the elevator. She needed coffee and she needed to think, definitely in that order. Seconds later, she was in Angel's office. To her shock, she was not alone.

"Cordelia. I'm surprised to see you." In truth, she was. She would have thought Cordelia would have leapt at the chance to stay home. Maybe Willow hadn't given her enough credit. Maybe she was truly grieving. Maybe, like Angel, she didn't want to be alone.

"Yeah, well, it's mutual." There was a noticeable absence of acid in Cordelia's tone and her eyes were red-rimmed to a degree no amount of cosmetic skill had been able to entirely mask. Willow's heart went out to her.

"I heard about Doyle. Angel called. That's...that's why I'm here." Cordelia looked puzzled by that, so Willow tried to explain. "I guess he figured I'd understand, you know?" Cordelia _didn't_ know, so Willow went a bit further. "Jesse."

A light came on behind Cordelia's eyes. Willow found her almost fond expression unexpected, but also touching. Cordelia remembered Jesse. That was a good thing. Jesse would have been so happy about that. Willow hoped that he somehow knew.

Awkwardness prevailed for a time as neither one of them could think of anything to say. The past stood like stone between them and it was hard to find a way around it.

Finally, Willow decided to try an old standby. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything, I guess. Doyle being dead, being here, what happened back in Sunnydale..." And much to Willow's own amazement, she really meant it. She _was_ sorry. Sorry she'd been stupid, sorry she'd been selfish, sorry that Cordelia was grieving and lonely...just sorry.

"It's not your fault."

That wasn't exactly what she'd expected Cordelia to say, nor did she expect the tears she saw brimming in the former cheerleader's eyes. But what she _really_ didn't expect was her own actions - she walked over to Cordelia and embraced her.

As hugs went, it was clumsy and strange, neither one of them quite prepared for such an affectionate gesture, but it was comforting - for both of them. She was graced with a watery smile from Cordelia as they released each other and stood silent and nervous for a minute or two.

It struck them both, Willow realized, that not being enemies was something new and uncertain. It was almost disquieting. Sure, they'd sort of gotten along when Cordelia was dating Xander, but that was circumstantial, a best friend and a girlfriend forging a tentative peace for the sake of a boy. This was different, or it would be.

"You wouldn't happen to have any coffee around, would you?" It was obvious from the raised eyebrow that Cordelia remembered what Willow was once like when exposed to caffeine. Was there any point in trying to explain to her that the amount of coffee a college student needed to drink had largely altered her chemistry and made her far less wacky after consumption of it?

To her amazement, however, Cordelia made no effort to dissuade her from her desire. "The machine's over there." She gestured towards what Willow could now see was a coffee maker. "I could make you some if you like."

"That's okay. I'm sure I can figure it out. Thanks." Willow proceeded to the machine in question and did exactly that. It wasn't the most complicated piece of equipment, after all, and in no time, Willow had a pot brewing.

"I'm glad you're here."

Now that was _truly_ unexpected. She turned back and looked at Cordelia's face. She meant it; she really did.

"Thanks. I'm..." What was she? Willow wasn't quite sure what to say or even how she felt. There were so many things Cordelia didn't know, things that made everything in Willow's mind and heart muddled and murky. If she could save the world by stating what her feelings were right now, she'd fail.

"I hope it's okay, but...Angel told me about Oz, that he left and all and..."

"It's okay." And it was. Oh, twenty minutes ago, she would have been furious, but as of now, it was fine. She could accept Cordelia having that knowledge.

"He's a jerk, you know? I mean, I know he probably made some lame excuse about you and Xander and all, but really, it's not the same thing. It's not like you and Xander slept together."

Willow's shock must have shown on her face.

"Okay, when Angel first told me I felt differently for a minute or two, but I've changed. I'm mature now and I've gotten past all that and I can see things more realistically."

Now Willow was the one with the raised eyebrow; she couldn't help it.

"Alright, maybe I see it differently because Doyle thought...when he heard some of the things I said...he said..." Cordelia became too choked up to say another word.

For the second time today, Willow found herself with her arms around Cordelia Chase. The girl was sobbing and Willow couldn't help but cry, too. She'd barely met Doyle, but it sounded like he'd stuck up for her, stuck up for her against the woman he loved. He must have been one heck of a guy. Willow wished like anything that she could have known him.

"I'm really glad Angel called you," Cordelia said as she pulled away and reached in her purse for a Kleenex, dabbing at her surprisingly intact eye makeup. It was the second time she'd said that and Willow was...well...moved.

She got up and went over to the coffee maker, getting two cups and filling them. The coffee was hot and smelled pretty good and Willow was looking forward to the rush of caffeine hitting her system.

The sound of the elevator startled her; she almost dropped the coffee pot. Angel was here.

For a moment, Willow thought Cordelia was going to go to him and hug him - her body language all but screamed that intent - but something seemed to stop her.

A softly spoken "Hey" was what she offered instead, and she remained seated.

"Hey," Angel replied. What it lacked in originality, it made up for in doing nothing to smooth the rough edges of renewed awkwardness in the room.

Willow took Cordelia the coffee she'd poured, trying desperately to keep her hand from shaking.

"I was going to check the paper, see if there was anything about the explosion," Cordelia offered, before taking a sip of her coffee and smiling approvingly at Willow. She then did just that, opening up the copy of the _L.A. Times_ which lay before her on the desk.

Angel walked over to the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and smelling it appreciatively. Gosh, she must really make good coffee.

Seconds later, however, the silence was shattered. "Oh my God! Willow, did you know about this?"

Willow immediately went behind the desk to see what Cordelia was so agitated about and a small headline halfway down the page caught her eye: Mysterious Epidemic in Sunnydale.

Willow scanned the article quickly, learning that each and every resident of Sunnydale had suddenly contracted laryngitis, that the whole town was in fact mute. The article went on to suggest that either some sort of biological weapon or perhaps mass hysteria was at fault, though city leaders were blaming the outbreak on recent flu vaccinations. Willow knew better; this was something demonic, no question about it.

"I...I have to go home." She was truly shaking now. This could not be good.

"Willow, you can't. See what it says here?" Cordelia pointed to a sentence towards the end of the article. "It says the whole town is quarantined. No one is allowed in or out until they figure out what's causing the epidemic."

"I have to try, Cordelia. I can't just leave them there to handle this alone. I mean, I know Giles will probably be able to figure stuff out, and Buffy can slay whatever is causing this if it's something you can slay, but it's not like Xander and Anya are a whole bunch of help and who knows if Spike even cares. I have some magical mojo and they could probably use it right now."

Okay, perhaps she was overstating her degree of magical expertise - after all, other then the resouling spell, glamours were pretty much all she was good for - but she couldn't very well stay here and do nothing. For all the problems she was having with her friends, they _were_ still her friends and, more importantly, Sunnydale was her home. She'd been defending it against the forces of evil since her sophomore year in high school. She wasn't about to stop now.

"Spike is back?" Guess Cordelia hadn't been told about that.

Now Willow was both confused and irritated with Angel. He told his erstwhile secretary all about her breakup with Oz (which really wasn't her business, though Willow was okay with her knowing), but never mentioned Spike (who really _was_ her business, seeing as how he'd tried to kill them all at one time or another)? Thanks, Angel.

There was definitely going to be a very big discussion happening at some point in the future.

"Something was done to him by a bunch of commandos. We don't know all the details yet, but we do know he can't hurt anybody anymore. We've kind of taken him in."

"Like a stray puppy?" Cordelia's grief hadn't completely resolved her tact issues, something Willow was actually a bit happy about. To tell the truth, she sometimes enjoyed Cordelia's caustic remarks, especially when they were not directed at _her_. "Oops, sorry, Willow. I didn't mean...I wasn't trying to make you think of Oz or anything."

Actually, Willow _hadn't_ thought of Oz until Cordelia mentioned him by name. How strange was that?

"It's okay. I'm dealing with it." She could tell neither Angel nor Cordelia believed her, and why should they? It wasn't a bit true.

Of course, she _wished_ she was dealing with it. Or maybe she didn't. Because dealing with it meant letting go and she still stubbornly refused to do that. What she and Oz had...it was forever, Willow refused to accept anything else as truth, and if that meant a lifetime of pathetic loneliness, with a blanket of threadbare nostalgia as her only source of warmth, well wasn't that how it should be?

She needed to get out of here. The sooner she was back in Sunnydale, the sooner she was away from Angel and the reminder he was of needs and feelings that weren't going to stay buried in the grave where her life with Oz lay rotting away, the sooner she could go back to grieving over what was lost and pretending that she'd never forgotten her sorrows for awhile in another man's bed...at least once they'd dealt with the mysterious epidemic.

"I'm sorry to leave you guys right now, I really am," she turned and looked at Angel as well, "but I have to go back. I'm sure I can do some sort of magic-y something to get me past whatever they have keeping people out of Sunnydale and the sooner I get there, the sooner I can help fix this."

Cordelia got up and pulled Willow into an embrace. "It's okay. You've always been Little Miss Helpful. And really, you're right. I mean, hello, it's not like Xander or Buffy have ever been any good at research. Giles could probably use someone around who actually knows how to read."

Willow thought that, even though she'd made a similar observation herself, maybe she ought to at least _want_ to defend her friends, but she didn't feel the slightest compulsion along those lines and she wasn't going to force it. She felt closer to Cordelia right now than she had to Buffy and Xander in ages, and that wasn't just a matter of physical proximity. More food for somber thought later.

She walked past Angel to the elevator, unnerved by his silence, but grateful as well. She noticed that he looked at her neck as she passed and she hoped Cordelia hadn't seen where his eyes had been. Deciding to try to forestall another _tete a tete_ with him before leaving, she turned around and went back to give him a quick hug.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" She kept the contact warm but brief. "I'm sure you guys will want to sit and talk, you know? So I'll just head down, get my stuff, and go. I'll call you as soon as I can." With that, she was on the elevator, headed downstairs before Angel had a chance to say a word.

Back in Angel's room, it looked like her gambit had worked; minutes passed and she remained alone. She went into the bathroom, grabbing her sundries and nightclothes and stuffing them back into her overnight bag. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she got back on the elevator.

"I'm leaving, guys," she said with a bit of forced cheer as she disembarked at the office once more.

"Don't take any stupid risks that it's Buffy's job to take, okay, Willow?" Cordelia's voice held genuine concern along with that now-endearing causticity, as if what she really considered most important was Willow coming out of all this safe and sound. Willow would shed a few tears over that in the car, she knew.

Angel pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "Be safe. Call me the minute you can." Then he whispered, "Thank you," before letting her go.

"Bye." She waved to both of them as she left.

In moments, Willow was out the door and in her car. The clock and the sinking sun told her it was late afternoon. With any luck, she'd reach Sunnydale in a couple of hours. She only hoped she wasn't too late. She already had plenty to feel guilty about without the death of her fellow townspeople on her head as well.

Starting the engine, she pulled out into traffic, her thoughts as crazy and mixed-up as the L.A. drivers she had to navigate around. How had her life gotten so incredibly complicated?

 

Tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sunnydale, things are still awkward as Willow agrees to take custody of Spike.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Four)

 

Though Sunnydale had been saved before Willow made it back, Giles's apartment and its occupants were all strangely quiet. After the obligatory recap of recent events and Buffy's heroism, the only person who seemed to have much to say was Anya, whose complaints no one but Xander actually paid much heed to or cared much about. Still, Willow caught bits and pieces of them, even as she paid more attention to trying to catch the tenor of the mood in the rest of the room.

"It's not like she actually has a life. She should have been here doing the research."

"Just because she's a loser and no one wants to have sex with _her_, why do the rest of us have to be miserable? We haven't had sex in almost thirty hours."

Every now and then, Xander would mutter something placatory and Anya would calm for a moment, only to start up again as bitter as ever.

Willow made up her mind to tune her best friend's demon bed-buddy out for tonight (and perhaps forever), though a part of her wanted to rub Anya's nose in the fact that not only did someone want to have sex with her, but it had been better sex than Anya would ever have. Of course the cold water reality that revealing the identity of her lover would hurt Buffy and ruin Willow's own life kept her silent

Things between Giles and Olivia seemed strained, though Willow wasn't as surprised as she might have been. It was odd the way time in Los Angeles, the breathing in of air that didn't reek of supernatural forces, made her realize just how strange and frightening Sunnydale might be to one unused to it. She felt for the woman, she truly did.

She felt for Giles, too. It seemed like the Hellmouth did nothing but take from him everything that might make his life something akin to whole. For if the look on Olivia's face was any indication, her relationship with Giles was not going to last. First Jenny, and now...

Naturally, remembering Jenny brought on fresh guilt, though really, she supposed she didn't deserve it. Willow may have slept with one who shared the body of Jenny's murderer, but Buffy still _loved_ him, and if Giles could overlook that, well... Besides, she had plenty of Angel-related guilt for any number of other reasons.

Like Buffy. Buffy, whose eyes were full of shadows. Something was bothering her, something she was trying to hide. Funny how Willow was still so curious despite the myriad secrets - well, _one_ secret, really, but it felt like hundreds - she herself was hoping to conceal forever.

Buffy caught Willow looking at her and spoke. "Is your aunt okay?" She had obviously read the note Willow had left.

"Not really, no." Willow felt terrible for lying, but what else could she do?

"Please extend my sympathy to the rest of her family." Giles was as correct as ever.

"I'm pretty much the only one Aunt Esther has right now. That's why I've gone to see her so often lately. I mean, my parents are at a conference and..." She didn't get to finish her sentence.

"Isn't your Aunt Esther dead?"

Great. Every year at Hanukkah, Xander managed to forget she was Jewish, but he could recall that back in fifth grade, her Aunt Esther died. What were the odds?

Spike, of all, people, manged to save the day. "Nice one there, moron. Puttin' the lady in the ground before she's even stopped breathing."

Xander looked confused, but, amazingly, he also seemed to be questioning himself. Between Spike's words and Willow's silence, it looked like she might just get away with this.

Spike then turned his face towards hers; it held an amazingly believable expression of concern and sympathy. "She isn't dead yet, is she?"

"No, not yet. But the doctors think it's only a matter of time," Willow replied, trying hard to look upset and plucky at the same time. She felt horrible for gaslighting Xander, but then again, it wasn't as if he wouldn't have done the same thing to her. His conduct with Anya was sure enough proof of that.

Besides, it worked. Xander looked horribly abashed and Giles was giving him a sterner than usual version of the disapproving expression he earned on a regular basis.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't here to help, you guys. But when the hospital called and said she was doing worse, I thought I should go back. If I'd known..."

"She's family, pet. Of course you had to go to her." Spike's sentiment was sincere. She knew it was only a matter of a change in pronouns and he'd have said exactly what he felt. That was certainly food for later thought.

Xander stared and was obviously about to say something. Spike stopped him short.

"What? I'm a vampire. We do care about family, you know."

"Oh yeah, the way Drusilla cares about you? Because..."

"Xander!" Willow interjected, deciding that returning the favour to Spike took precedence over any residual loyalty to her childhood friend. "That's mean, and I don't think you of all people should be bringing up dysfunctional families, anyway."

Even Buffy looked shocked at that and Willow could hardly blame her. Still, what else could she do?

"I'm sorry," she mumbled weakly. She shot a quick glance at Spike, hoping he'd forgive her for backpedaling slightly. The look in his eyes seemed to say he did. After all, he was a vampire. Vampires knew about treachery and survival. "I guess I'm kind of worn out."

Buffy opened her arms and Willow went to her and hugged her.

"It's okay," she told Willow, though really, accepting the apology was hardly within her purview, "I understand how upset you must be. I mean, about your aunt and everything and being the only one there for her. We all have things we have to do alone..." Buffy's voice trailed off and Willow got the distinct impression that she'd been talking about herself by the end. Whatever secret Buffy was keeping was big, Willow was sure of it - big and burdensome.

There had been a time - at least Willow was pretty sure there had been a time - when Buffy would have opened up to her. She'd have made some clumsy excuse about being desperate for a mocha and dragged Willow off for a private conversation. She'd have spilled her guts, told her everything, and Willow could have given her the support she needed.

When had that changed? When had it all turned distant and awkward? Sure, they both still called each other their best friend, but when had they stopped actually _being_ best friends?

And whose fault was it?

The guilt she felt was now absolutely agonizing. After all, she hadn't really been off playing dutiful niece to a dying aunt. While her friends had been facing death and destruction, while Buffy had been busy defeating the Gentlemen and saving the town, Willow had been having mind-blowing sex with Angel. Okay, she was consoling him at a time of terrible grief, but there was still lots of nudity and adult content going on and...oh gosh - she'd now officially had more sex with Angel than Buffy ever had.

She couldn't help it. She burst into tears.

That only gave her more grounds for guilt as her tears convinced everyone but Spike (who knew the truth) and Anya (who couldn't care less) that she loved her aunt dearly and was suffering a great deal at her imminent passing. Soothing words were spoken by all and sundry, even Olivia, and Anya actually piped up with an observation of her own.

"Is she leaving you any money?"

That, of course, was followed by Xander's ubiquitous cry: "An!"

Strangely, she suddenly found herself wondering if Cordelia remembered the death of Aunt Esther. Willow had the oddest feeling that she did...and that, unlike Xander, she'd never be fooled into believing it hadn't happened.

Of course, she might be overdramatizing things and reading more into Cordelia (and _less_ into her friends) than was strictly truth. She certainly hoped that was the case. She loved Buffy and Xander and Giles. They were her home, her family, her heart. Sure, they were going through a rough patch right now, but didn't that happen in families? Granted, she didn't have much personal experience along those lines - her parents weren't exactly familial - but the books she'd read certainly said as much. Though they didn't offer much advice on how to repair rifts caused by secret affairs with your best friend's soulmate.

Angel. The elephant in the room, though only two people even knew he was there.

Was it too much to hope that everything could go back to the way it was in their salad days without Angel being dealt with or even mentioned? Couldn't she just promise to be a good girl from now on and somehow the bite would disappear and she could make things right with her friends and life would be the same as it once was?

A voice inside her, however, asked a different question: Was that really what she wanted?

Willow was brought back to the here and now by the voice of annoyance, namely Anya.

"Why does he have to stay with us again? Xander and I want to have sex. Which we can't have with Spike there. Well, _I_ don't mind, but Xander..."

"An!"

"I'm with you on that, moron. Watching you and your demon shagging might well make me stake myself."

"In that case, I'd be okay with you...hey! I'll have you know that we're..."

Willow really didn't need to hear more of this argument. "He can stay with me," she interjected.

"No, he can't."

"Buffy, I didn't mean in the dorms. I meant he could stay at my parents' house with me. I'm going to be staying there for awhile anyway. It's easier for me to borrow the car to go back to Aunt Esther if I'm staying there. I already told the hospital that's where they can reach me."

"Are you sure your parents won't mind?" Giles was so considerate tonight.

"They won't even know. I'm pretty sure they won't be home until next year."

"Even with your aunt in such poor health?" Was Giles so completely unfamiliar with her parents? They hadn't taken her to visit Aunt Esther once when she really _was_ in the hospital. The memory still hurt.

Xander surprised her by chiming in. "They're not exactly big on togetherness. They might send flowers when...well, _when_..."

Willow graced him with a watery half-smile. She was touched by his clumsy attempt to be a friend again, though some unnerving and uncomfortable thoughts were stirring at the back of her mind.

"See? It'll be fine, Giles."

"Are you sure, Will? I'm not sure I like the idea of you being all alone with him."

"Buffy, he can't hurt me, remember?" She winced internally as she said it. Later, she'd make sure to apologize to Spike for bringing up his degraded state. She could only imagine how much it hurt him. "It will be fine. I'll enjoy the company."

Buffy looked skeptical, but her preoccupation seemed to make her willing to let the matter drop.

"C'mon, Red. Let's go. Times a-wasting." Spike seemed more than anxious to get out of there. Willow wasn't sure whether it was to avoid further mention of his chip and his consequent disability or because he wanted to grill her on her activities. Either way, Willow didn't actually mind leaving.

She headed for the kitchen and grabbed some blood out of the fridge, then stuck it in a paper bag. Why was she not surprised that Giles preferred paper to plastic?

"Bye, guys," she said as soon as she got back to the living room. No sense in dallying.

Unfortunately, no sooner had she and Spike reached the door...

"Oh!" Anya cried. "Why don't _you_ two have sex? That way Willow won't be all mopey and annoying all the time, and..."

"No!"

As Xander and Anya began another argument, Willow and Spike slipped out of the apartment.

"Nice car," Spike sneered, obviously unimpressed with her parents' taste in automobiles.

"Hey! It gets great gas mileage." And yes, pathetic though it was, that was really the best defense Willow could come up with. It was a sensible family car bought by two actors attempting to look the part of solid and dependable parents. Despite its practical virtues, and even though it was two years old, it had seen so little use that it still held vague traces of the scent one expected in a new car. Willow was sure that she'd driven it more than her parents had and she'd "borrowed" it for the first time when she went looking for Oz.

The car wasn't the only thing she'd "borrowed."

"It's not you." Spike's voice halted her depressing train of thought.

"Well, that makes sense since it's not mine."

"Your parents never bought you a car of your own?"

"They'd have to think about me to buy me a car." That sounded more bitter than she'd intended. After all, how much did Spike truly care about her and her life?

"What about your schooling?"

"Scholarship. UC Sunnydale almost pays me to attend. They were pretty excited that someone accepted to Oxford and Yale and Harvard would choose to go there instead."

For a moment, Willow thought she saw the oddest look of longing in Spike's eyes, but it left so quickly she couldn't be sure it had ever been there.

"All those fancy schools wanted you and you chose Loser University?"

What could she say to that? She wanted to defend her choice with everything she had, but right now, she couldn't. Looking at the way things had turned out, she couldn't even convince _herself_ she'd made the right decision.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Maybe the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes inspired compassion, or maybe Spike was bored with talking about her education, but he stayed silent for a short while. At least until Willow pulled up near the dorms.

"What are we doing here? I thought we were staying at your house."

"We are. But I need to get my books and some clothes. Do you want to come up with me or wait here?"

She already knew what the answer was. There was no chance of Spike wanting to remain alone outside, an easy target for the commandos. But asking was a small way of giving him back some shred of dignity.

Instead of replying, he got out of the car at the same time she did and followed her to the building and up the stairs.

She was surprised to see someone standing in front if her door. It was a girl from that ridiculous Wicca group she'd recently joined and even more recently given up on. Tara. She was the only one who seemed to have a clue about magic.

"Oh h-hi, Willow. I just came by to see if you'd l-like to..." She then noticed Willow's companion and abruptly stopped talking, hiding her face behind the hair that fell over her eyes. Her actions bespoke a shyness that was oddly endearing, though Willow felt badly for somehow putting her in an awkward situation, however unintentionally.

"Tara, this is Spike. Spike, this is Tara." She hoped to at least make the girl a bit less uncomfortable.

Spike's manner became unaccountably different. He sidled up to Willow, putting his arm around her shoulders in a manner that was...well...almost proprietary. "Nice to meet you, luv."

"Is h-he your b-boyfriend?"

"Spike?" What kind of question was that? But before Willow could disabuse Tara of that notion, Spike answered for her.

"Yes, I am." He smiled fondly at Willow, who now felt like hitting him. What was he up to?

"Oh." Tara's eyes grew wide behind her hair. Was that disappointment? Oh..._oh!_ "I-I'll see you around, okay?" And with that, Tara scurried back down the hall before Willow could say another word.

Once she was out of sight, Willow gave into temptation and _did_ hit Spike, though not hard. "What was that about? What on Earth made you decide to lie?" She opened the door to her dorm room and dragged him in before he could answer.

"Best way to let the chit down, don't you think? I mean, it's kind of obvious she fancies you and you wouldn't want the poor girl to keep carrying the torch, now would you?"

"Who appointed you my chaperone? What if I'm interested in _her_?"

The most startling thing about that statement wasn't that Willow made it, but that she meant it. Or would have meant it a couple of weeks ago, anyway. If Angel hadn't entered the picture...

Yes, she would have dated Tara. The thought should have shocked her, but it didn't. She'd had sex with a werewolf and a vampire. Just how kinky could dating a woman actually be by comparison? And anyway, she'd met her vamp self. She had never been fooled by Buffy and Angel's lame attempts at lying. She knew that the demon didn't fall far from the human, at least not in every respect.

"It's too late for that now, pet. Have you forgotten that mark on your neck?"

"Since when do you care about Angel? I would think you'd _want_ me to be with someone else."

Spike's eyes were hooded now. His expression unreadable. "Yeah, you'd think that."

Conversation now ground to an abrupt halt, so Willow went about the work of gathering her things. Soon enough, she had her bookbag and a large duffel filled up and she and Spike departed the room in prickly silence.

He was angry and Willow had no idea why. Volunteering to play hostess to him suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.

Back in the car and on the road and Spike still hadn't said a word. Willow couldn't stand it anymore. So she did the only thing she could think of - she apologized.

"I'm sorry, Spike."

"What for?" He seemed surprised and it suddenly struck Willow that he was as hard to fathom as Angel. For the very first time, she saw a family resemblance there.

"For whatever I did that made you mad." What else could she say? It's not like she knew what she'd done, only that it must have been _something_.

Chuckling, Spike put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Apology accepted."

Darn. She'd been hoping for a reply that might at least give her a clue as to what the fuss was about to begin with, but she wasn't going to get one. Again, she was reminded of Angel.

Out of the blue, she wondered if it was deliberate - if Spike was bringing forth some of the traits he shared with his sire to make some sort of point, though she wasn't sure what it could be. She was lost again, wandering through unfamiliar territory. What on Earth was she going to do?

Silence prevailed, but at least it was companionable this time. Willow supposed she could live with that. It wasn't as though she had a choice. At any rate, they arrived at her house in short order and she figured that upon entering, some sort of discussion would have to take place, even if it was only the niceties of where Spike would sleep and where the kitchen was and whether or not they had cable.

It all transpired along nearly those exact lines. The walk to the door from the car was silent, as were the first couple of moments after entering the house. Willow headed for the kitchen and stowed the blood in the fridge before returning to Spike in the living room..

"So, you wouldn't happen to have cable here, would you?"

Willow fought to keep from giggling. It wasn't so much that she found his question funny, just the fact that she'd predicted he'd ask it.

"Yeah, sure thing. My parents spring for the whole package. I don't know why. Maybe they want to impress the cable company." Again, there was that bitterness she couldn't seem to hide, though she quickly plastered a smile on her face. The same one that always convinced Buffy that she couldn't care less about her parents' non-presence in her life.

It didn't work on Spike. He gave her an uncertain but obviously well-meant hug.

Perhaps it was the display of affection, or perhaps it was just that these thoughts had finally coalesced at the back of her mind and insisted on making themselves known, even _apropos_ of nothing, but the idea that had taken root in her mind back at Giles's apartment was now fully formed. And it hurt.

Xander and Buffy and Giles, so unconcerned when she really _was_ in pain, were amazingly quick to shower her with compassion over a family tragedy that was completely fabricated. It reminded her distressingly of Professor Walsh, who was filled with admiration for the most fraudulent and slipshod effort Willow had ever submitted to a teacher in her entire life.

Who she was, what was inside her...no one cared about the real Willow Rosenberg. At least not the three people Willow had come to think of as her family, who she'd sacrificed any chance she had for a normal life in order to stay with, who she'd seen herself spending all the rest of her years beside.

The agony was almost overwhelming.

As much as she didn't want to share this much of herself with Spike, she couldn't hold back the tears. He kept his arms about her through the worst of it, silent and unintrusive, that last part a blessed difference from his sire. She needed the luxury of loneliness right now, someplace cold and solitary where she could later sort through her thoughts.

After a short while, she brought her emotions to heel.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, this time at least knowing why. "I didn't mean to..."

"I'd ask what the tears were for, but I figure it's probably none of my business."

"Thanks." She wasn't sure she'd ever been more grateful to anyone for anything than to Spike for his restraint.

"So, shall we go sit somewhere? Somewhere that isn't this rather catalogue-inspired living room? You really need to redecorate, pet."

"Sure," she chirped, gesturing for him to follow her upstairs. She was grateful for the superficiality of his banter. It was diverting. Besides, he was right. The living room was hideous.

Of course, as it turned out, he didn't think any better of her bedroom. "Is there any room in this house that isn't appalling? This room can't ever have suited you. How could you possibly sleep in here?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. He was dangerously close to crossing the line. She'd actually picked out the decor. Sure, most of it had been done when she was nine, but still...

Spike got the message from the look on her face and swiftly changed topics. His reticence and delicacy, however, were now a thing of the past. "So, any chance you might be willing to share the dirty details of your latest tryst with the pouf?"

"Spike," she whined, really not up to the task of parrying Spike's verbal thrusts at Angel and extremely uncomfortable with talking about her sex life, even if it hadn't been something she so desperately needed to keep secret from her other friends.

Spike, however, was not to be deterred. "It's not like I don't know where you've been, after all. And I'm dying to know just how Peaches lured you back to Los Angeles so soon."

How was she going to answer that? On the one hand, she didn't know what she could tell Spike that wouldn't constitute a betrayal of Angel's confidence. Yet, on the other hand, Angel had no problem spilling _her_ secrets to all and sundry.

She decided to split the difference.

"A friend of his died."

"Is that what he told you? Yeah, right. Angel having a friend, that'd be a new one."

While Spike had seemed almost familial towards Angel earlier, he was now back to the hatred Willow was more accustomed to from him. Still, despite the fact that it was what she'd come to expect, it stung, and now she felt the need to defend her erstwhile lover. Angel's grief was a real and profound thing and Spike making light of it was grossly unjust. Her memories of Jesse stirred within her.

"It was a man named Doyle. And yeah, they were friends."

Spike's expression fell. "The Irishman? The one who was working with him and that ditzy cheerleader? He's dead? Sad, that. He was a brave one."

"You knew him?" That was a surprise.

"Briefly. We met when I was trying to persuade Angel to give me back my Gem."

"You mean when you tortured him?"

"Torture, persuasion...let's not get all hung up over semantics." Spike waved his hand dismissively.

Willow couldn't help it. She laughed. How could she not? Spike was so blasé about the strangest things.

"Well, that's a pleasant sound."

"What?"

"Your laughter. It's nice to hear it at last."

His words made her self-conscious. Was he mocking her? There was no more laughter now and the silence was back, awkward and unwieldy this time. Amazing how many kinds of silence there were, how many different moods could be carried through empty air, and how unmanageable and frightening they could be. She began to understand why she was forever filling up the quiet moments with useless words.

As if to relieve the tension, the phone rang. While the sound was oddly welcome, the fact that her phone was ringing so soon had Willow worried. Was something wrong? Did the gang need her to go back to Giles's house?

She picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said.

"Willow."

It was Angel.

Tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Spike spend an evening together.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Five)

 

"Willow."

"Angel? How did you know I was here?" She nearly stuttered as she spoke, uncomfortable talking to Angel with Spike in the room, particularly since Spike was now lying across her bed, clearly enjoying the prospect of listening in on the conversation.

"I had Cordelia call Giles. I was worried about you. You said you'd call and..."

For a moment, Willow forgot everything but Angel's words. It was obvious he meant them. He really was worried. She wasn't sure how to react to that. It wasn't something she was used to, after all, since everyone usually assumed she was okay, figuring she could care for herself (_or just not all that concerned about her_, that small voice inside her said).

"I'm sorry. I just wasn't able to call you. First I was over at Giles's house and now...well...I'm not actually alone."

"Who's there?" Angel sounded a bit uneasy now.

Willow hesitated before replying, not sure how either her caller or the guest who seemed uninterested in leaving the room would react. "Spike."

"Why is he there?" Angel sounded curious, but not as upset as Willow would have imagined. Now Willow was the one who was curious, but she didn't ask any questions; she simply went on with answering the one posed by Angel.

"Giles and Olivia kind of need some alone time, especially since she sort of found out the hard way about demons and slayers and stuff, and Xander and Anya...umm...they have things they want to do that I don't really want to think about, so..."

A sharp burst of laughter interrupted her. "I don't want to think about Xander and his demon chit doing 'things' either."

Willow turned and glared at Spike. "Do you mind? I'm talking on the phone."

"I don't mind a bit, pet. Keep right on talking." He smirked at her in a way she was pretty sure would have made Buffy smack him. It certainly made Willow _want_ to smack him for the second time that night. He seemed to have a knack for inspiring violence in people.

Angel, of course, overheard the exchange. "Tell Spike to remember that night in Vienna. He'll know which one I mean."

She did as she was told, knowing that _she_ should not want to know what Angel meant, she just hoped the threat worked. "Angel says for you to remember that night in Vienna."

It _did_ work, although the expression on Spike's face wasn't fear, at least not like any expression of fear that _Willow_ had ever seen. He looked...wistful, almost. Just what was it that had happened in Vienna?

"Yeah, well, I'll leave you to chat with your sweetheart. I'll be downstairs. You did say you have cable, right?" And with that, he was out the door, leaving Willow more at sea than ever. Now there were _two_ enigmatic vampires in her life. She found them both unsettling.

"He's gone," Willow said.

"Are you okay?" So the subject was to be changed, and rather abruptly, too.

"Yeah, fine. By the time I got back, Buffy had already killed them." Maybe she ought to explain who 'they' were. "The Gentlemen. Those were the demons. They took everyone's voices so that they could steal human hearts without anyone screaming. Gruesome, huh?"

"I'm glad you weren't there."

For some reason, that got Willow's back up. "You never know. I might have been a big help. Maybe Buffy would have killed them even faster if I'd been here."

There was silence for a moment; Willow didn't understand just why she was so angry and Angel…well…she figured Angel was surprised by her reaction as well.

"I know how much good you do." His voice was quiet, so quiet that she was surprised she heard it through the din of her own confusion.

What could she say to that? There were layers of meaning hidden beneath the words that Willow was nowhere near comfortable exploring, even with Spike out of the room. Now it was her turn to change the subject.

"Are _you_ okay? How's Cordelia holding up?"

"As well as can be expected. She…she'd finally agreed to go out with him, you know?"

"I know how much you miss him, too."

"Yes, you do."

She could see Jesse's face clear as day for a brief moment as Angel said that, more clearly, in fact, than she'd seen it for a long time. Yeah, she _did_ understand Angel's pain. A part of her wished she was still there with him.

She wasn't the only one who felt that way. "I miss you." Soft again, but Willow heard him.

"Me, too," she said without thinking, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. Somehow she'd committed to something, given depth and meaning to something she'd hoped could stay small and insignificant.

"You can come back, you know."

What could she say to that? Nothing, as it turned out.

Angel read the tea leaves of her silence and switched topics again. "What did they say about you being gone?"

"Not much. I mean, Anya was ticked off that I wasn't there to do all the research, but everyone else understood that my aunt needed me." Willow couldn't keep the edge of bitterness out of her voice. As glad as she was not to have been caught, a part of her couldn't help but ache all over again at the fact that the only sympathy she got from her friends was for an entirely fictitious family tragedy.

"They bought the excuse then?" Speaking of edges and voices, there was no small amount of contempt in Angel's tone.

"Yeah. Well, there was kind of a close call with Xander. He sort of remembered that my Aunt Esther actually died way back when I was in fifth grade."

"He did?" More contempt, this time mingled with surprise.

"Well, not that well. Spike and I gaslighted him and it pretty much worked."

A snort was her only answer. She should be glad of that, she supposed. There'd just be more guilt to bear later if Angel insulted Xander and she said nothing in his defense.

"Something's up with Buffy," Willow volunteered a moment later.

"Oh?" There was interest there, but something was missing.

"I think something happened that she isn't saying."

"She'll tell you. Buffy's never kept secrets from you for long."

"I just think…maybe that will make me feel more guilty." Great, she _would_ have to walk headlong into a minefield.

"Why?"

Why? Did Angel just ask her _why_? Well, the grief over Doyle's death was a very powerful emotion and perhaps it had Angel more at sixes and sevens than she'd realized.

She did her best not to sound exasperated or impatient. "Because of you and me."

"There's nothing for you to feel guilty about."

"Nothing? Angel, you two are soul mates and I've had more sex with you than she has. You guys only got to be together once."

"Twice."

"Yeah, I know you and I were together twice, but…"

"So were Buffy and I."

Okay…what? When had that happened? Because Buffy never told _her_ about it, which was shocking since Buffy had retold the story of her first time with Angel over and over again. Why wouldn't she have been equally forthcoming about a second tryst?

"Huh?" What it lacked in coherence, it made up for in at least conveying the shock and confusion she felt. "Buffy didn't tell me that you…"

"I…I'll tell you about it sometime."

"You can't drop a bombshell like that and say you'll tell me about it later."

"Willow, it's not something I want to discuss over the phone."

"So why did you even tell me about it?"

"I don't know. But I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

There was nothing to be done. She understood Angel enough to know that pleas and entreaties weren't going to get her anywhere. And how terrifying was that - that she knew him so well?

"What happened that night in Vienna? You know, with Spike?" No harm in trying to get _some_ of her curiosity satisfied, was there?

A low chuckle was her only answer for a long moment. It should have chilled her. It didn't.

"William stepped over the line a bit. I had to…I mean…"

"I know who you mean," Willow hastened to reassure him.

"He needed to be shown his place." Another chuckle, this one carrying the timbre of a man almost lost in reverie.

That's all the story she was going to get?

Maybe some deft fishing would help. "Spike looked almost nostalgic when I told him what you said. It doesn't seem to go along with the whole punishment scenario you're talking about."

"There are all sorts of ways to punish someone." Angel's voice was husky and Willow got the distinct impression that there was an offer being made. Her body responded.

"Oh." There was a hitch in her voice as she replied. She knew Angel could hear it.

"Will you be coming back?"

"I have school." _And a best friend who still loves you_.

Buffy. Why hadn't her first thought been of Oz. Why hadn't she thought of Oz at all until now?

"I miss you." He'd said that before.

"I know."

Another thing she hadn't thought about in awhile came to mind: the curse. How many more 'visits' could it withstand? Perhaps she should just stay far away forevermore.

"It's not just the sex, you know. It's…I like having you around."

The feel of her teeth gnawing at her lower lip was uncomfortable, but at least it was distracting enough to keep Willow from saying things she oughtn't.

"I like you, too, Angel."

She could tell it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but that was tough. He wasn't big on telling her what _she_ wanted to hear either.

"Willow, I…"

"I can't come back there, Angel. Not for awhile, anyway. I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry. But you do have Cordelia, and while I'm pretty sure it's not the same thing, though if it is, it's none of my business, you're not alone. And I have a life here. I have friends, I have school, I have…a duty, you know? I help Buffy and it's important. I can't just keep running back to L.A. all the time." She could feel his irritation through the plastic of the handset. "I _am_ sorry." She said it because she meant it, not because she sought to pacify him.

It struck her - suddenly, as such things always did - that Angel was the only person she'd never been afraid of fighting with. Not for one moment did she worry that standing up to him would cause her to lose him…and that wasn't because she didn't care.

One more piece of knowledge that made her question her lifelong passion for ferreting out information, for reading and learning and striving to _know_. Whoever had first said that ignorance was bliss might have been the wisest man ever born. And Socrates might have been a fool. Because there were things about herself that Willow wished like anything she hadn't discovered.

"I understand." He was lying, of course. Willow knew that he didn't understand at all. She realized for the first time that there was a streak of selfishness in him, something buried under layers of self-abnegation and soulful altruism. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it. Was that the vampire or the man?

"I should go. Spike's probably trying to redecorate my parents' living room."

"What?" Angel chuckled as he spoke.

"He thinks it looks like a catalogue. He hates my room, too."

No answer. Great. Even Angel hated her bedroom. She looked around. It wasn't _that_ bad. She'd seen worse. She resisted the temptation to defend herself against the insult hidden in Angel's silence, however. There really was no point. Besides, she consoled herself, it was natural for vampires to hate pastels; his lack of appreciation for her décor probably had nothing to do with its actual aesthetic merit.

"I'll call you soon, okay? Tell Cordelia I'll call her too." She waited a moment, but Angel still said nothing, so she hung up the phone.

She sat for a moment, trying to find comfort in the quiet, but her brain was noisy with thought and there was really no quiet at all. Despite the way the call had ended, despite the maddening questions he'd raised and then refused to answer, she knew that nothing had changed between her and Angel. Whatever this thing was, it existed still. They were still an 'us' and not just two people who'd had a fling, and a part of her was so very glad of that.

Willow wanted him. It was more than that, but 'want' was the strongest word she was willing to give form to and it would have to serve. It was a powerful thing, this desire that hid something deeper beneath what she wanted to see, and it threatened everything she held dear, not the least by showing her how little of it really existed anymore.

Too many mysteries, too much confusion, too many things she was almost unable to keep pretending weren't true. She wished she could hate Angel for it all. She couldn't.

Time to go downstairs, she supposed. There was no telling what Spike was up to down there. He may have been chipped, but he was far from harmless, and she trusted him about as far as she could throw him.

Heading for the stairs, she did her best to shake off the phone call. Her worries would keep until such time as she could be alone with them. The last thing she needed was to show vulnerability around a predator. After all, vampires had more than just fangs.

"Spike?" she called out, almost afraid to enter the living room without warning him of her approach.

"Yeah, Red." He sounded amused but strangled, as if there was something cutting on the tip of his tongue. She wondered why he restrained himself. Not for the first time tonight was she curious about his relationship with Angel and just what he felt about his sire. She had a hunch that whatever she and the others thought was wrong, in whole or at least in part.

"I'm off the phone now."

"Kinda figured that." There was the snide remark she'd been expecting. She let out the breath she'd somehow been holding. It was easier to deal with Spike when he did what she expected.

Could that be why he did it?

"Whatcha watching?"

"Nothing really. Amazing how there can be so many channels and nothin' on any of 'em."

"Yeah, most people feel that way. But they keep paying for the channels anyway, so really, the companies have no impetus to change. Maybe if everyone cancelled their subscriptions we could force the cable networks to implement more desirable content and…" Willow stopped, realizing that her animated tone and expressive gestures, combined with the rant itself, were giving far too much importance to what had started as a commonplace observation. "I really think too hard about this stuff. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. You think more about nothing than your little pals think about _anything_. Makes for a nice change of pace."

"I don't know. Giles is pretty think-y."

"And dull as dirt for all of it."

That brought things to a bit of an awkward halt; Willow felt neither like arguing or, much to her distress, like defending Giles. Luckily, Spike found the silence as uncomfortable as she did and he soon spoke up, the previous topic done with.

"So what did the poof have to say?"

She wasn't going to waste time objecting to the insulting sobriquet by which Spike referred to Angel. "Not much. I hadn't called him to let him know what was happening here and he just wanted to make sure I was okay."

Spike snorted. "Not bloody likely. Pet, if anything dire had happened to you, he'd have sensed it and been down here before you had time to die. What do you think that mark on your neck is, anyway?"

Was Spike right? No, he couldn't be. Angel had sounded very concerned and Willow was sure he wouldn't lie about that. Why would he, after all? And if he _was_ being honest, and he _didn't_ know whether Willow was okay or not, then that might mean…

"Maybe this isn't a claiming mark then? Because he sounded very worried."

Spike snorted again, more disdainfully this time. "You think I don't know the difference between a sex bite and a claiming bite? I wasn't turned yesterday. Angel may have been worried, but it wasn't about whether you were alive and in one piece. He was probably afraid that your merry band of morons had figured out you were up to something and that there'd be no more delightful little visits from you."

Willow felt pain in a way that was almost physical. She remembered the concern in Angel's voice and how good it had been to have someone actually worry about her. Had it been a lie? More of Angel's selfishness?

Spike could see her uncertainty and sadness. "Don't take it like that. You wouldn't have that bite if he didn't care."

She was about to ask how he knew what she was afraid of, but in a sudden burst of welcome insight, she realized that right now she didn't actually want to know.

Instead, she countered his observation and accepted the truth of her own fear with some cold, hard logic. "He can't care that much. He still has his soul."

"C'mon, Red. Angel may be hard up, but he's hardly going to claim someone he only wanted as a safe shag. If I were you, I'd do a bit of research into that curse. There must be a loophole somewhere." Spike looked her up and down and leered. "From where I sit, a bloke could be every bit as happy with you in his bed as with that Slayer. More, in fact."

"I don't really want to talk about this with you, okay. No offense."

"None taken." But there was, and Willow wished she hadn't said things the way she had. She might not trust Spike, but she liked him for some unfathomable reason and she hated to hurt his feelings.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't even talk about sex with _Buffy_, at least not sex that _I'm_ having, and I'm still feeling really weird about this whole thing and…"

"I get it." Happily, whether he got it or not, he was at least less offended and that made Willow about as close to happy as she could get right now.

Willow finally decided to sit down, it was rather impolite not to, she realized. So she sat at the other end of the couch and stared at the TV. Spike was right; if the channel he had on was showing the best of tonight's programming, there was nothing worth watching. Was there anyone on the planet who hadn't already seen _Interview With the Vampire_? Besides, it was ridiculous and she probably would have thought so even if she _didn't_ live in Sunnydale and chat (and then some) with vampires on a regular basis.

"What made you decide to watch _this_ movie?" Willow asked, figuring Spike would have to prefer even infomercials to a film like this.

"Wanted a laugh."

"Oh. That makes sense."

Another long pause. That wasn't really surprising. Aside from attempts to kill her or make her do spells for him (and her relationship with his sire), she and Spike really didn't know each other all that well and it was challenging finding comfortable topics of conversation.

After a minute or two, she tried to restart things. "He didn't tell me anything about Vienna." She figured Spike might find it comforting to know that none of his secrets had been revealed.

"He didn't, huh?" Spike didn't look comforted at all.

Typical. Willow always said the wrong thing. She hated herself right now. Was there a way she could somehow save this and make Spike feel better? "Well, not any details. He did chuckle a lot, you know, in that really creepy, Angelus kind of way. And he said some stuff about needing to put you in your place and that there are all sorts of ways to punish someone."

Good job. It worked. Spike got the oddest, almost happy sort of light in his eyes. The hooded, guarded look she was used to returned in a trice, but it had been gone for a second and Willow felt the victory keenly.

"Did he now."

That was all he said, but it held worlds in its depths.

She got it, finally. She did. For all the hatred and for all the times they'd fought and tried to kill each other, Angel was still family. No one wanted to be forgotten and cast aside by their own family. Who could understand that better than Willow?

"You're not asking me any questions," Spike chided.

She was a bit taken aback. "I figured since I didn't want to answer any of yours…"

"I'm not shy. Ask away." He was impish now and she knew he wanted to make her blush. She figured she ought to let him. She still owed him for having to bring up his chip earlier that night.

"Okay." She was blushing already and she hadn't asked a question yet. "Did it…hurt? When he punished you, I mean?"

"Oh yeah." Spike's expression told her he hadn't minded that a bit.

Willow blushed again, knowing from personal experience that Angel had a talent for making pain…not so painful.

Spike caught the look in her eyes. "Bring back memories, did I? Looks like you're answering my questions after all."

She could feel the burn of her cheeks as they turned scarlet. Sure, she owed Spike, but she wasn't sure she owed him quite this much.. Oh well, no going back now.

"I am pretty sure it wasn't like when you and he…you know."

"Shagged? Probably not. You being human and female and all. Still, it sounds as if you and my sire had quite a time of it. Big difference between that and when he bedded the Slayer, I'll wager."

"That was different. I mean, it was Buffy's first time and…"

A loud guffaw interrupted her. "And she's the _Slayer_. You'd think she could handle something a bit more intense than your typical teenage lovey-dovey nonsense. I heard all about it from Angelus, luv, and it sounds like a right boring time was had by all."

"Buffy said it was beautiful," Willow shot back. On this score she definitely felt the need to defend her friend. What Buffy had told her, after all, rather closely resembled Willow's own cherished first time with Oz.

"She _would_," Spike mocked.

"They loved each other, Spike. I'm sure Angel would have described it the same way Buffy did."

"There's all kinds of love, I suppose. Count me out of _that_ kind."

"You don't have a soul. I guess that makes a difference."

"Thank hell for that, that's all I can say. All that softness and hand-holding…it's not right. No proper vampire would have anything to do with nonsense like that. I'm glad not to be anything like the poof, I'll tell you that."

Willow couldn't help herself; she giggled. Spike was so serious, and even though he was unknowingly insulting Willow's intimate relationship with Oz, she still somehow found his attitude amusing.

Spike glared at her, though she could tell he didn't really mean it.

"I'm sorry…it's just…"

"Oh, c'mon. don't tell me that _you_ aren't disgusted at the thought of all that sweetness and light. You can't have ever gone in for that sort of thing. Oz might have been an utter prat, but he _was_ a wolf."

"Actually…" Her cheeks flamed again, though she had no idea why she felt ashamed of her relationship with Oz.

"Oh no. Not another 'oh woe is me, I wish I wasn't a demon' bloke. Is there something in the water here or something? What's so bad about being a demon, I'd like to know? The bloodshed, the torture, the screams, the sex - it's a great life. It's not something to be ashamed of, I'll tell you that much."

"You miss it, don't you?"

"Of course," he said, looking at her as if she'd just said the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"I guess I understand. I mean, none of that stuff sounds all that great to _me_, well maybe the sex, although probably not the kind of sex you're into, so…anyway, I…yeah, I can see where having everything that makes your life worth living taken away would really…well…suck."

Spike stared at her for a long minute. "I guess you would at that."

Then the seriousness was gone, replaced by the impertinence she was more familiar with. "At least there was none of that kissy-kissy rubbish with you and Peaches." He looked at Willow's open mouth and immediately stopped her before she could speak. "Don't even try to lie to me. I caught that look you had when I talked about the pain and the way you answered my comments about that oh-so-fateful tumble Angel had with your precious Slayer. 'Sides, there's no way a vamp claims someone if they're not givin' his demon a good seeing-to, get my meaning?"

Just as her blush was finally fading, he brought the flames back to her cheeks. No, what she and Angel had done had been nothing like what she'd shared with Oz or like what Angel had shared with Buffy. Even when Angel had been tender it had been…intense.

She was a very bad person. Maybe even worse than the demon blithely discussing her sex life on her parents' sofa. At least he could blame the absence of a soul. What was Willow's excuse? Even if she hadn't had _more_ sex with Angel than Buffy had, she still had that bite mark, and that was something that would kill Buffy if she ever found out.

It was something that would make Oz hate her and never, ever want her back.

"Would you mind if we didn't talk about this anymore?"

"Making you uncomfortable?"

"Buffy's my friend."

Spike seemed shocked; obviously he'd thought she was more disturbed by the sexual aspects of the conversation than the fact that what they were really talking about, at least in Willow's mind, was her complete betrayal of two people she loved.

Much to her surprise, Spike didn't come back at her with any snide comments about Willow obviously not caring enough about Buffy's feelings to skip that second trip to L.A. Instead he sat back on the couch and focused his attention on the television.

The movie, that silly movie, was still playing, and Willow figured the only thing that might make it bearable was popcorn. She went into the kitchen in search of some. Spike sat silent in the living room as Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt continued their defamation of all things undead. The conversation, at least for tonight, had ended.

Tbc…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Spike continue on the path to friendship, Willow starts down the path to accepting the truth, and a phone call from Angel sends Willow back to Los Angeles.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Six)

 

It didn't really surprise Willow when Olivia returned to England but no mention was made of changing Spike's living arrangements. After all, it wasn't as if her friends weren't accustomed to imposing on her…and it wasn't as if she weren't accustomed to allowing it without a word of complaint.

Besides, she was honestly glad of the company.

The first night, as it turned out, had been all about sizing each other up, setting boundaries, drawing lines. She hadn't known it at the time. She knew it now.

Days passed, they'd coexisted with amazing companionability, and the conversation had been…careful, that was the word, on both sides.

Until tonight.

"Did you see that?" Spike was giddy, practically bouncing off the walls of her kitchen as she heated up some blood. "Did you see me just throw that demon into the crater like he was nothing at all?"

"I saw it." Willow decided that now was not the time to remind him that his doing so had nearly cost them the battle. It wouldn't be kind to rain on his parade. After all, he'd just discovered that the chip hadn't completely robbed him of the capacity for violence so dear to a demon's heart. She could only imagine how much that meant to him, how much of his identity he must feel was restored.

Without meaning to, her thoughts drifted to Angel. What did violence mean to him? For all that he possessed a soul, he _was_ a demon. Did he, too, revel in the capacity to maim and kill? Did the hands which had mapped her body with such skill find a different kind of ecstasy in meting out pain?

She knew the answer, of course, and the only frightening thing about it was that she wasn't actually frightened at all. He was a vampire and deriving pleasure from violence was a part of that; at least he satisfied those urges by fighting for what was good and right. Maybe if Oz hadn't suppressed that darker side of himself, maybe if he, like Angel, had found an outlet for the demon within him instead of caging it, maybe…

Maybe he would never have slept with Veruca; maybe he would still be hers.

Indulging in 'what if's' was not only pointless, but depressing, and really, Willow knew better. It didn't stop her mind from going to the most painful places, though, and Spike, for all his giddiness and hyperactivity, noticed.

"Penny for 'em." Spike's voice broke into her thoughts.

"They're not worth that much."

"Sure they are, though you'll have to spot me the penny, I'm afraid."

That last remark brought a sort of half-smile to her face, but it didn't make her want to open up to Spike. She might find him a pleasant houseguest and even like him as a person…well, _vampire_, but she didn't trust him, especially not after watching him tonight. The way he'd stared at the others after killing the demon, the look in his eyes saying that it would have been them if he could have made that choice…it chilled her.

It didn't, however, frighten her enough to stop her from asking a very personal question. "What is it with you and Angel?"

He looked taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly. "What do you mean?"

What _did_ she mean exactly? "I guess I was just kind of wondering about you two. I mean, I know you hate each other – you've probably tried to kill each other more times than I can count – but you just seemed kind of…I don't know…sentimental, maybe?" Spike growled softly and glared, obviously offended, so Willow did her best to backpedal."In a weird, vampire-y, twisted sort of way, I mean, and…" Her voice trailed off as she got caught in the tangled vines of her own thoughts.

Spike was silent for a moment before saying something that shouldn't have been enough to explain anything, but somehow explained everything. "He's family."

The look in his eyes was as full as any expression she'd ever seen there, but what all was lurking in those blue depths eluded her. Besides, she'd done enough digging for tonight.

He had trusted her, she realized, trusted her with something he knew she could use to hurt him. If she repeated those words to Angel… She wouldn't, though, and Spike knew that. She decided to acknowledge his confidence with one of her own.

"I used to…I used to feel like I had a family. Not my parents, but Xander and Buffy and Giles – I felt like they were my family."

"Not anymore?"

"No, not really." It wasn't as if Willow had suddenly realized this, but it hurt to say it out loud, nonetheless. Tears threatened to form in her eyes.

"Already figured that out."

"Yeah, probably not hard." Willow tried to sound unconcerned, but it hurt that Spike was throwing her offering back in her face, treating it as if it were nothing at all.

He noticed. "Kind of surprised you admitted it, though."

That, she was pretty sure, was Spike's version of a 'thank you.' At any rate, she decided to take it that way. At least it kept the tears at bay.

It was probably time to change the subject, but Willow really didn't know what to say. Her mind was too full of Angel and Oz. She could only imagine what Spike was thinking about, after what they'd discovered about Buffy's new flame. That must have been the something Buffy hadn't shared with her the night she came back, the something she would have shared before.

"Boy, that's something about Riley being…"

"One of the bastards who maimed me?"

"Umm…yeah."

"I'm not all that surprised. Frankly, I thought the Slayer was a part of their outfit at first, anyway."

Willow didn't know what to say. She actually _was_ surprised, though maybe she shouldn't have been. But really, Buffy having been with Angel and all…no, it seemed out of character for her friend to accept an organization that treated demons like…animals. Of course it was okay for Buffy to kill vampires and demons who were violent and actively killing and hurting people, but this group? From what Spike had told them, it didn't seem like they were being so choosy. And then there was… She shuddered as a thought occurred to her for the first time.

"Spike? Were you…when they…did they put the chip in while you were…?"

"Awake, pet? No. They did it while I was still knocked out by those bloody tazers of theirs."

"Good." She let out the breath she had been holding. The thought of Spike's head being cut open while he was conscious? It was too much to bear. The tears were back, pricking her eyes.

He stared at her for a long moment, seeming almost disconcerted by the compassion she was feeling towards him. She supposed that made sense; she wondered when the last time anyone had felt sympathy for him was.

The silence gave her thoughts room to roam again, and they went where they were most prone to go these days: right to Angel. Did Buffy think about him when she was with Riley? Did she realize that the people her new boyfriend worked for would probably experiment on Angel the same way they had on Spike? Did she even register the fact that Angel - like Spike, like Darla, like Drusilla – was a vampire?

Questions upon questions, and Willow was nowhere near certain she wanted the answers. She knew them anyway, like it or not. They threatened to turn her whole worldview on its head. Because if Buffy and Angel weren't soulmates, if their love wasn't a true and powerful thing…

No, maybe Willow had been wrong about Buffy and Angel, maybe they were more teenage romance and less a love for the ages, but that didn't mean she was wrong about what she shared with Oz.

Just as it seemed she was about to smash her own dreams to dust, the phone rang. Before she could get to it, Spike grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" There was a short pause and a broad grin broke over his face. "Peaches. How lovely to hear from you."

Willow grabbed the receiver out of his hand and glared at him. Sadly, it wasn't a very fearsome expression she achieved and Spike merely chuckled. She hated him right now. What if it had been her parents? Granted, the likelihood of them calling was roughly equal to the likelihood of demons deciding never to try to open the Hellmouth ever again, but still…

"Angel. Hi. Sorry about that. Spike's still staying here, though I guess you already figured that out. Um…so…what are you calling about?"

"Some big things have been happening here. Stuff I figured you needed to know." His tone was calm, but heavy, and Willow could tell that whatever he was calling about was serious.

"Oh my gosh. Are you okay?"

"It's not me. It's Cordelia." While mindful of Spike's views as to Angel's sincerity last time they spoke, Willow was still inclined to believe him. He had to realize she could call Cordelia and check out anything he told her, after all.

"What happened?"

"When Doyle died, when he kissed her…it wasn't just a kiss. He gave her his gift – the visions."

Willow was very lucky she was standing right by a chair or she'd have wound up on the floor. She sat down heavily, unable to say a word. Cordelia was Angel's seer? There was a disturbing feeling that she was terrified was jealousy stirring at the back of her mind.

"Are you there?" Angel's question made her realize that some time had passed. Spike was staring at her with something that might be worry if he weren't Spike.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm here…it's just…how did that happen? How is she taking it?"

"Not well, at first."

"I wouldn't think so. It must have been a real shock."

"She found out in the middle of an audition."

"Oh no."

"Yeah, unfortunately that wasn't the worst part of it. She was kidnapped by an empath demon and auctioned off to some very evil lawyers. They were about to remove her eyes when we saved her."

"Remove her eyes? Why?"

"For the power."

"Oh." Willow was overwhelmed. Poor Cordelia. That must have been terrifying. She wished that Angel had called her while all this was going on. Maybe she could have helped somehow. Of course, she couldn't think of a single way right now, but that didn't matter. Out of nowhere, though, her irritation was broken into by her mind seizing on the pronoun Angel had used when talking about saving Cordelia.

"You said 'we.'"

"What?"

"When you said you saved Cordelia, you said 'we.' Who was with you?"

"Wesley."

Huh? She could not be hearing correctly. "Wesley? Wesley who? You can't mean…"

"Oh yeah. One and the same."

Willow was more irritated than ever that she hadn't been called. He let _Wesley_ in on the rescue and not _her_? "How much help could he have been?"

"More than you'd think actually, especially once he changed out of the leather pants."

Leather pants? Wesley? She needed to sit. Oh, that's right, she _was_ sitting. "He wore…?"

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty, believe me. He didn't look nearly as good as you did." Angel almost purred as he spoke those last words and Willow blushed. Spike now looked more intrigued than ever.

"I'm glad Cordelia's safe," she said, by way of changing the subject.

"It's strange. I mean, the Oracles said that a door would open. I sure never thought Cordelia would be behind it." There was something more he wanted to say and Willow hoped he wouldn't say it. He did. "I thought…I thought maybe somehow…"

"Don't," she pleaded.

"I wanted it to be you. Dammit, Willow, I have feelings for you, I care for you. Maybe you don't like it, or maybe you do and you're just too damn stubborn to admit it, but that's the way it is."

He'd said it, said the thing she'd feared so much since this whole…whatever it was…had begun. What happened between them was more than just sex and comfort. She was just grateful there was one word he _hadn't_ said.

She couldn't discuss this with him now, not with Spike sitting less than three feet away.

"I…we need to talk. And right now is not a good time. I'll…I'll tell them that the hospital called and my aunt took a turn for the worse. I should be there sometime tomorrow, okay? I need some sleep tonight. We were fighting demons and I'm not really up for a long drive."

"Okay." She could tell he was happy, though he was obviously trying to conceal it beneath his usual monotone. Oz almost never had to work at concealing his feelings. It disturbed her that she suddenly wondered if that was because he didn't feel as deeply as Angel did, at least not about her.

"Goodbye," she said.

"I'll see you soon."

With those last words from Angel echoing in her mind, Willow hung up the phone.

Spike, of course, was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "So, I can see that Peaches has you well trained. He calls and you come running. Next thing you know, you'll be wearing a collar and a leash." Spike leered and gave her a blatant once-over. "Might not be a bad look for you, at that. Ditch the baggy clothes and add some leather and I think you'd be a tasty little piece."

Willow decided that glaring at him would be better than continuing this discussion. Unfortunately, it wasn't too effective at ending it.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't blame a bloke for wanting to know what you'd look like all decked out in some slinky leather number. Bet your precious Angel wonders the same thing."

"He already knows," she replied, before cursing herself for speaking without thinking.

"Really? How did he get so lucky? And why aren't you willing to be as kind to the rest of us?"

"It was back when the vampire version of me was here and…"

"Hold on there…you were a vampire? But…how…?"

"It was a spell. Anya tricked me into trying to help her get her powers back and we ended up bringing a vampire version of me from another dimension."

Spike sighed. "Wish I could have seen that."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing she was sent back, that's all I can say. She was evil and skanky…and her outfit was way too binding."

"How did you wind up wearing her clothes?"

"I shot her with the tranq gun and then I traded outfits with her so I could pretend to be her and distract the vamps who had taken over the Bronze."

Spike guffawed. "You? Pretending to be a vampire? I would've paid to see that. I'm amazed you didn't wind up drained."

"What?" Willow was offended now. Okay, maybe she wasn't the most dangerous or cunning girl in all the world, but she hadn't done _that_ bad a job of impersonating her doppelganger. "I'll have you know I did a pretty good job…well, 'til Anya blew my cover, anyway."

"I'll bet," he snorted. "Still, I do wish I'd had the chance to see you in leather."

He looked her over again, and it was starting to make Willow a bit uncomfortable with being alone in the house with him. He noticed. "Don't pay me any mind, pet. I'm just having a bit of fun. 'Sides, seems to me you've got more admirers than you can handle right about now. I'll just sit back and enjoy the show."

His words, while a bit snide, were reassuring and she could tell he was sincere. That was good, because she'd been getting used to him as a roommate and she didn't relish the idea of having to come up with an excuse to get him out of there that wouldn't lead to him getting staked.

"I'd better go get some sleep."

"Yeah, 'night then."

She started to walk out of the kitchen only to be stopped by the sound of his voice one more. "Guess this means I'm back to bunking with the moron and his demon while you're gone."

She turned back in surprise. "Why?" It had honestly never occurred to her that Spike wouldn't be staying right here.

"You don't think your little friends will object to me staying here on my own?"

"Pfft." Willow waved her hand dismissively. "They'll be happy they don't have to bother, believe me."

"And you'd trust me?"

Funny, she hadn't thought about that, but oddly, she _did_ trust him. "Yeah, why shouldn't I?" He looked as if his demonly pride had been wounded, so she scrambled to find an explanation that wouldn't diminish his status as an evil and amoral creature. "I mean, if you do any damage or go rummaging around my room, you either end up staked or back in Xander's basement, so…yeah, I trust you."

The crisis was averted; Spike seemed duly mollified, if his silence and the lack of further glaring were anything to go by. Which was a good thing, because Willow was dropping and badly in need of sleep. She bade him good night again and with that, she headed upstairs to bed.

*****

It seemed that only a minute had passed since she'd crawled under the covers, but the sunlight streaming through her window told her it was morning. Groggily, and with no small amount of reluctance, she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She decided she had time to take a shower and brush her teeth before calling the others and hitting the road.

Back to Angel's.

It was hard not to think bad thoughts as she stood in her shower, just as it had been every time she'd taken a shower since her last visit to Los Angeles, but she managed to distract herself by mulling over just how to word the excuse for her latest absence to her professors and so she was clean-scrubbed, wrapped in a towel, and brushing her teeth in no time. She stared in the mirror for a moment, looking for the scarlet 'A' she figured would have to appear on her forehead at some point. It still wasn't there. She looked like the same girl she'd been before she ever went to L.A.

She still looked like Oz's girl.

She wasn't Oz's girl. Not anymore.

She gasped. It was as if she'd been hit in the chest. This was the first time she'd ever allowed that thought to enter her mind. She clutched wildly for the frayed threads of hope she'd been clinging to for so long, but they slipped away.

She wasn't Oz's girl. Whether or not she was 'with' Angel or they were just a passing thing, she and Oz were over.

She leaned against the sink, unsure if she wanted to faint or vomit. She did neither. Instead, she quickly got dressed and went downstairs to grab an apple or something before packing a bag and calling Giles.

Spike was in the kitchen, drinking blood, when Willow walked in. She was surprised. Shouldn't he have been asleep at this hour?

"Hey," she said noncommittally as she walked in.

"Hey," he replied in kind.

She wasn't sure if he was being snide or not, but she was in no mood for sniping, so she let it pass. This wasn't a good time for an argument, but then again, when it was with Spike, was there ever? He was too good at battles of all sorts for Willow to be confident enough to duel with him, especially not right now.

"I'm just gonna grab an apple and then go pack. Oh, and call Giles, of course. I was gonna leave you a note."

"And now you don't have to. Isn't that convenient?" There was an odd undercurrent in his tone of voice that Willow found troubling. She thought they were getting on well as of last night, but now…

"Is something wrong, Spike?"

"With me? Nah, I'm just dandy. Defanged, dependent on my enemies, forced to prey on my own kind just to get in a decent spot of violence, reduced to drinking pig's blood, and so bloody neutered that a slip of a mortal girl can trust me to keep an eye on her house while she slips off for a shag with my poufy sire. Whatever made you think anything was wrong?"

At that moment she felt rather ashamed of herself. Somehow, losing Oz had made her forget that others had lost what defined _them_, too. At least one other, anyway…Spike. As much as she was happy he hadn't been able to sire her, she felt for him. It was hard to have what defined you suddenly ripped away, leaving you feeling small and alone and helpless. She should have known that being able to kill other demons wouldn't make up much for what he had lost.

"I'm sorry, Spike." She walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, hoping the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice would say all the other things for which she couldn't find the right words.

He said nothing, simply looked down into his mug, staring at the dregs of blood as if they contained visions of the bygone days that might be gone forever.

She whispered the words that revoked the glamour under her breath. Maybe this could help.

"You see this?" she asked, waiting for him to look up. His eyes widened at seeing the mark on her neck. "This is the only reason I trust you in my house. We're family, like you said. Otherwise, I'd have you tied up in Giles's bathtub before I even dared to leave town." The funny thing was, she realized, she actually meant that. She knew full well that her threats, no matter how dire or likely to be carried out, were not enough to keep Spike in line. Even with the chip.

"You mean it? You're not just saying that?" Spike looked so hopeful that it almost broke Willow's heart. She was so grateful that she wasn't lying.

"I do." She wore something resembling her famed 'Resolve Face' and that seemed to settle the matter. It was time for her to stop dawdling in the kitchen and head upstairs, but first…

She muttered the words and the glamour hid the mark once more. Spike stared as it disappeared.

"Bet Peaches doesn't like that trick one bit."

"I don't know."

Spike snorted, knowing she was being disingenuous, but he let it pass without remark. "Better go make your call and pack your things. Still got that leather gear?"

"Spike," she warned.

"Just a suggestion."

"I gave it back to her before we sent her back to her world."

"Pity." He waggled his eyebrows as he spoke, his expression broad enough to let her know he was just teasing.

Willow gave an exasperated but good-natured sigh and finally left the kitchen, heading upstairs to her bedroom, where the phone loomed like the enemy before her.

Oh well, not like she had a choice. She picked up the receiver and dialed the familiar number, getting into character as she heard the ring at the other end.

"Hello?"

"Giles? Hi, it's Willow." She did her best to sound choked up and emotional.

"Willow, what is it?" He sounded concerned. Great. He bought it.

"It's…It's Aunt Esther. She's really doing badly and they…they need me to go there and sign papers and things and…"

"Oh dear. I'm so sorry. Of course, you must go."

"Yeah. I'm gonna throw some things in my overnight bag and head out right away. Tell Buffy to take notes for me if she can, okay?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. But…what about Spike?"

"Oh, I figured he'd just stay here. I already told him that Buffy would stake him in a heartbeat if he so much as thought of trashing my house, and besides, I think he prefers being here to the bathtub or Xander's basement, so…"

"That does stand to reason, though Spike is not always one to behave in a logical fashion. Still, I suppose we could pop in and check on things while you're away. If you were to leave a key…"

"No, really, it's okay. I mean…I'd at least kind of prefer that Xander and Anya not come barging into my house. You know Anya and…" She shuddered as she imagined Anya suggesting that Willow's empty house would be a perfect place for orgasms. Not for one moment did she believe that Xander cared about or respected her enough to say no.

"Yes, yes, quite." She could almost hear Giles polishing his glasses. "Perhaps it would be best if you just kept your key with you and…yes, I trust that Spike won't get up to too much trouble while you're gone."

She was about to say goodbye when he spoke again. "Your parents won't be returning during your absence?"

Willow's heart ached as she realized how little attention Giles really paid her. They'd covered this very matter only a few days ago. "No, Giles. They're not going to be back for at least six months. They said they'd let me know before they get back so they can schedule a lunch with me."

Giles said nothing, obviously uncomfortable. Maybe he recalled the earlier discussion and felt foolish, or maybe he just didn't want to deal with this much personal knowledge of a girl who, when all was said and done, was just his Slayer's best friend and a crack researcher. It didn't really matter much, did it?

Willow said goodbye and barely waited for him to do the same before hanging up. For the second time today, she felt as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her.

Family – no Giles wasn't family, not now, and not ever, as today's phone conversation had finally made clear, breaking through the fantasies she'd been holding onto for years and forcing her to accept the truth she'd started to admit last night. Today was a day for that. The process that had begun when she last returned from Angel's was kicking into high gear.

She'd lost Oz and she'd lost Giles.

She knew she was sure to lose more.

Packing quickly, she straightened her shoulders and made her way downstairs, putting all her strength into keeping her tears at bay. She could cry in Los Angeles.

As she left Spike sleeping in front of the TV on her parents' sofa and headed for the car, she tried not to think of just how terribly wrong it was that she'd feel safe with Angel.

Tbc…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow learns about Angel's day with Buffy and Cordelia figures a few things out for herself.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Seven)

 

 

The drive to Los Angeles seemed shorter each time. Willow could have sworn she was barely out of Sunnydale before the smog made it difficult to see and the drivers grew rude and reckless as she drove under grimy overpasses and struggled to make sense of the omnipresent graffiti. She wondered who on Earth could actually read it. Gang members, she supposed – the real ones, not the phantom bikers on PCP who'd been said to rule the dark streets of Sunnydale for so many years.

Before long, she was at Angel's, thoughts of deranged motorists and rampant vandalism forgotten. It was still daylight. She was reminded of how very different she and Angel were, of the things that, for all his enhanced senses, he would never see. Even ugly things, like smog-choked urban blight and walls defaced with barely decipherable scrawls of "Chico 139" shining wet and harsh in the hazy midday sun. As unappealing as they were, Willow knew she'd miss them if she couldn't see them that way ever again.

It made her wonder about beauty, and what she would think was lovely if moonlight was all she had left. The oddest thing was that the first wave of pity she felt was for Spike. Unlike Angel, he'd never expressed a single regret over his undead state, yet still…somehow…

All she was doing was depressing herself, and heaven knows, she didn't need to work this hard or venture so far afield to find cause for despair. There was more than enough misery in the events of this morning to bring tears sufficient to slake the most ardent appetite for gloom without her flights of fancy returning home with a full cargo.

She waited for the traffic flow to subside sufficiently for her to get out of the car safely. A moment or two later, it did and she hurriedly got out, slammed her door, and made it to the sidewalk just in time to avoid being felled by a blissfully unconcerned man in a Volvo sedan. The irony of nearly being run over by someone driving a safe and stodgy vehicle wasn't lost on her as she cursed under her breath in some demon tongue she'd picked up a few choice phrases in at Willie's. Funny how it was always easy to tell what was profanity, even in a language you'd never heard before.

A few moments later, her overnight bag retrieved from the back seat, doors locked, and the car alarm set, she headed inside.

"Willow!" Cordelia seemed surprised when she walked in. Hadn't Angel let her know that Willow was coming? "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but weren't you just here?"

The two hugged briefly before Willow spoke, setting her bag by the coffee machine. "Didn't Angel tell you he called me?"

"No," Cordelia said, clearly puzzled.

"Oh, well, he called me this morning and…anyway, he told me about the visions and…here I am." She tried to sound chipper and supportive but she wasn't sure she'd pulled off either. Cordelia still looked puzzled and her brow was furrowed in a way that left Willow a bit apprehensive.

"So…you're here because of the visions?" Was that suspicion Willow heard?

"Umm…yeah…I mean…kind of…I…"

"Willow, I'm not stupid, okay? I kind of figured out when Angel called _you_ when Doyle died and not his precious Buffy that something must have changed when you were here looking for Oz." If Cordelia was fishing, she sure used the right bait because Willow was caught too far off-guard to reply with anything other than a 'deer-caught-in-the-headlights' look that surely gave away not only the game, but the set and match as well.

After a few seconds with her mouth open, she managed to choke out a few words. "I…we're friends and…"

"Yeah right. I thought we'd established that I'm not stupid. I just hope you aren't either, because we both know what happened the _last_ time Angel had a girlfriend. Dead fish ring any bells?"

"That's enough, Cordelia," a firm voice spoke from the doorway.

"All I'm saying is…"

"I said that's enough. Willow's not stupid and neither am I. And our friendship is none of your business." He walked over and picked up Willow's bag, hoisting it easily, before addressing his next remark to her. "Let's go downstairs where we can talk."

"See you later," Willow said to Cordelia before leaving the room with Angel. She could almost feel the tension as Cordelia exercised unusual restraint and kept silent.

Speaking of silence – that was pretty much what reigned as she and Angel headed downstairs. When they reached his apartment, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

Willow had to admit, she'd missed this. She'd never thought of herself as sex-crazed before, though she'd always enjoyed it, but now – with Angel – it was something she craved. Still, as much as she wanted things to progress, there were things they really needed to discuss, so...

"Angel," she panted the moment his mouth left hers, "We have to stop."

"You're right," he said, sounding more than a bit disappointed as he let her go and stepped back, "I guess I was just hoping…"

"That you could distract me?" Willow finished, a small smile on her face to let him know she wasn't upset.

He smiled back. "Didn't work."

"It almost did."

"Did it now?" There was a faint hint of a brogue in his tone. She'd almost forgotten that Angel, like Doyle, was Irish.

She put her hand out, gesturing for him to keep his distance. "Almost, but not quite. We really do need to talk."

"I know," he sighed, sitting down on the couch and motioning for her to join him. She sat in a chair instead. Maintaining some space between them was probably a good idea.

"So, you didn't tell Cordelia I was coming?"

"I guess I forgot."

If she thought that was going to start a conversation and allow her to ease gradually into the tough topics, she was sorely mistaken. Because after that short and barely informative exchange, all that followed was silence.

There were so many things she wanted to say, so why couldn't she say any of them? Angel was no help either, sitting stoically across from her waiting for her to initiate further conversation. Still, for all his lack of speech, he was nothing like Oz.

That thought was what broke the logjam.

"Oz isn't coming back." The words came out in a rush, as if they were in a hurry to be spoken.

"You heard from him?" Angel sounded strangely nervous.

"No. It's just…I was looking in the mirror this morning and…I knew. I knew I wasn't Oz's girl anymore."

"Willow, I…"

Willow held up her hands, gesturing for him to keep still. "That's not all I want to talk about, okay? But it's something I needed to say. I don't know what we are, whether this is just a now thing or a 'thing' thing, like a boyfriend/girlfriend thing, but I am telling you that I'm not looking backwards anymore. And I need to know, before I let myself feel anything for you…what about you and Buffy?"

"You want to know if I still have feelings for her."

"Yeah."

"And about what I told you on the phone."

"That too."

Angel sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. Willow's chest tightened, terrified that he was going to tell her that she was cute and a good lay, but that Buffy was still his one true love.

That wasn't what he said.

"She's not what I want. Maybe once…once, yeah, she was everything I thought I wanted, but now…"

"Now?"

"You said you looked in the mirror this morning. What did you see?"

Was he saying what she hoped he was? "You mean…?"

"Yeah, I mean. I want you, Willow. And I don't just mean in bed. I mean I want you here with me every day. I want to look across the office and see you sitting at your computer. I want to see you smile at me in the morning. I want to feel your arms around me when things seem hopeless. I want _you_."

She couldn't breathe. As much as a part of her was happy, happier than she was at all comfortable with, another part of her felt guilty for taking something that meant everything to Buffy – Angel's love. Just because her friend had a brand new lover didn't mean she was ready to let go of what she'd counted on having forever, and Willow knew that. Besides, could she even believe Angel? She needed more questions answered.

"What about that other thing? The second time?"

Again, Angel's hand raked through his hair. He was nervous. Why? When had this taken place? The knot in Willow's stomach grew.

"When Buffy came here, to tell me to leave her alone…"

That was shortly before Willow herself had visited L.A. for the first time. But Buffy's visit had been so brief. "You two had sex then? But…she would have told me…wouldn't she?"

"She doesn't remember." Angel's voice was low and…off. It made Willow wonder.

"How can she not remember? What? Did you slip her a roofie or something?" She regretted those last words the moment she said them. "I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't do that, it's just…"

"I was human."

This made less sense with every word Angel spoke. "You were…what?"

"There was a demon…I fought it…the blood turned me human."

"Oh my God. Angel. You were…"

"Human. For a day. Buffy and I spent it together. I ate food, I felt things…and we made love."

"But Angel, Buffy wasn't away for a whole day. In fact, I can't believe there was even enough time for you two to have sex."

"They took the day back." He said that as if it explained everything. It didn't explain anything.

"Who…how…?"

"The Oracles. When I realized…when I saw what being human meant, how I could no longer do anything to atone for what I'd done …I went to the Oracles. They turned back time so that it would never happen, I would never become human. And the only one who remembers the day is me."

"I'm so sorry." What else could she say? She got up and moved to the couch to sit next to Angel. She put her hand on his arm and neither of them spoke for what seemed like a long time.

"I'm not."

It took Willow a moment to realize what he was talking about. "You're not?"

"No," he said, his voice full of wonder, as if he just now realized what he was saying and what it meant, "no, I'm not. I'm not sorry. I'm…I'm not sorry." He stared into her eyes, seeming grateful somehow, though Willow couldn't really understand. Or maybe she did.

"You're glad you're not human?" She wanted to make sure.

"I am. At first…when it happened…I told myself that I was making a sacrifice, that I was doing it for Buffy's sake and for the sake of all the people who needed to be saved, but now…now I think maybe…I don't know."

She waited, not knowing what to say and hoping that he would say it instead.

"I did it without even telling her, you know. I never asked her, I just went to the Oracles and made the deal. I told her about what I'd done only a minute before it was set to happen. One last kiss and then…we were right back in the office and she was telling me to leave her alone, to let her forget me. I told myself I was sad and hurt because I couldn't be human and be with her but…now, I don't think so. I think I was sad because…because I wasn't sorry. I should have been sorry."

"I understand."

"Yes, you do." Angel held onto her hand almost too tightly.

She wasn't sure _what_ she understood, but she knew that, on some level, she really did understand. Strange how that could be.

"I don't mind – being what I am, I mean. I used to, but now…it's not that I don't regret all the things that I did, the people I killed, the lives I destroyed. I'll never stop regretting those things. But who I am now, no, no I don't mind that. I don't mind the abilities that allow me to save lives and help people. It's more than that though, I just…"

"I'm glad you're who you are." She meant it. It would never have occurred to her to wish that Angel was human, though she knew Buffy did. "And not just because you've saved my life a few times with those vamp-y abilities."

"I know."

They held hands and there were no words again for a short while. It didn't feel quiet though. Her brain was noisy with thoughts and fear.

"I'm not him." Angel's voice broke through the din.

"What?"

"I'm not Oz." She made to interrupt, but Angel kept talking and she couldn't. "I know you're afraid, afraid I'll run the way he did. I won't." He stared into her eyes with an intensity that was frightening. "When you came here that day, tearing my place apart, hysterical, do you know what I thought?"

She remembered full well what he'd said then, but she feigned ignorance. "Umm…that there was a crazy woman in your apartment?" She gave a tentative grin, trying to lighten the mood. That didn't happen.

"That I wanted someone to love me the way you loved Oz. That no one who could throw away that kind of love ever deserved you. I hated Oz. I still do."

"You think you mean that, but…"

"But what?" He sounded angry now.

"Everybody says that, says they care, but they don't. They leave or they push me off to the side and pretend they're still my best friend or they don't even pay enough attention to realize that my parents haven't been home since before my high school graduation or…" She broke down, barely registering the feel of Angel's arms as he pulled her close.

"I'm not them, Willow. I don't know why they do what they do to you, but …" He put his hand under her chin and tilted her face up. She must have looked a sight: puffy face, red eyes, tear stains. He was gazing at her like she was beautiful. Then he kissed her.

It was sweet and tender, but it was nothing like Oz. She tensed for a moment before giving in, kissing him back, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer.

The kiss ended and Willow let go; Angel didn't. "I don't know what happened with the curse, whether you did something differently when you performed it again, or whether there's some loophole we don't know about, but I know one thing: If happiness was enough to cost me my soul, I'm sure I would have lost it with you by now."

They kissed again, needier this time. Willow believed, and it scared her - because she'd believed too many times before, and she couldn't face one more heartbreak. How could she make Angel happy if she couldn't even make her own parents love her? Make Xander put their friendship on anywhere near the same level as whatever girl was getting his dick hard this week. Make Buffy care enough to spend time with her. Make Giles remember that she wasn't a laptop with a perky grin. Make Oz want to stay.

She let go anyway, getting lost in the way Angel's body felt under her hands, in the way his kiss stole her breath and she didn't care, in how badly she wanted him inside her.

It was obvious he wanted the same thing. Not a moment later, he picked her up and carried her to his bed, almost tearing her clothes as he hurried to strip her. It might have made her giggle if her own need wasn't as great, but there was nothing amusing about obstacles now. Her hands were at his belt buckle now as she helped him off with his own apparel, and then…

The first thrust of his cock was, as ever, a bit of a shock. Her body still registered the size of him, and the force with which he took her. She looked into his eyes; saw the flash of gold and the ghost of ridges wanting to form on his face. She realized she liked this, that she had from the beginning. It felt…powerful – the way he gave her all of himself.

She was surprised when he suddenly withdrew, flipped her over, and positioned her on her hands and knees before thrusting in again. Sure, he had taken her from behind in the shower, but it was still an unfamiliar position to her. Not that she didn't like it…

He was pounding into her now, hard and fast. She liked that, too. He was so passionate. It forced her to let go of her restraints, to feel and not just give. His fingers found her clitoris, building her towards something shattering.

She came, screaming his name so loudly she would have worried Cordelia could hear her if she was capable of rational thought. Angel followed her not a moment later, his fangs in her neck – renewing his claim.

They collapsed, sated and spent, beside each other on the now rumpled bed. He looked so gentle now, and his eyes were full of something she wasn't sure she wanted to name. She was terrified the same thing shone from her own.

Without warning, Angel suddenly leapt from the bed and began to dress. Oh no! Was he…was Cordelia right? Had they been stupid?

"Angel?" Willow's voice shook and her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm going to see the Oracles," was all he said as he buttoned his shirt and fastened his belt buckle. Then he put on his shoes and was gone before Willow could say another word.

What was going on? He said he was going to see the Oracles. He had gone to see them when…

Willow ran to the bathroom, vomiting up everything she'd eaten over the last twenty-four hours into Angel's barely-used toilet. There was only one reason she could think of for Angel to be going to see the Oracles: he had changed his mind. He wanted to be human again…so he could be with Buffy.

She flushed the toilet and burst into tears, kneeling on the tile floor, not even remembering that she was naked. This was the worst day of her life. She'd thought she was safe. She'd given Angel everything, allowed herself to fall…to fall…

She couldn't even bear to think of the words that finished that sentence. Why? What had she done to deserve this much pain? Was this some sort of punishment for sleeping with Angel in the first place? Because Buffy had moved on - technically, anyway – and Oz had left her, so it wasn't like she was cheating or stealing someone's boyfriend or anything? So why…why?

Her tears continued and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to stop crying, though she should. She should, in fact, get up, get dressed, and get gone. Just as she stood up, however, she realized she wasn't alone.

"Oh my God!"

"Cordelia?" How much worse could things possibly get? She mumbled the words to the glamour and hoped like anything that her hair had been hiding the bite.

"Willow, you're naked!" What a relief. At least some of her luck had held. Cordelia would surely have mentioned the bite had she seen it.

"I know that. Could you hand me my clothes?"

"You mean the clothes that are strewn all over Angel's bedroom?"

"Cordelia, please just…"

If Willow had any idea of her tear-stained face and the obvious pain in her voice heading off any further trouble, she was sadly mistaken. Cordelia was not the least bit deterred. "I thought we had this discussion upstairs. You know, the one where you two assured me that you weren't stupid? What were you thinking? Did Oz's leaving make you suicidal? Because if it did, you should have just slit your wrists and not decided to try bringing back an evil, murdering monster who would kill other people as well…like _me_, for instance."

Willow collapsed again, wailing as she sank back down on the bathroom floor. That, at least, seemed to melt the ice that had re-formed around Cordelia's heart where she was concerned.

"I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't really mean that I thought you should kill yourself or anything. I'm sure you didn't mean…and hey, if it helps, he's not Angelus. I don't think Angelus would go to see the Oracles and that's where Angel said he was headed, plus, he wasn't wearing leather, so…"

If Willow hadn't been too hysterical to speak, she still wouldn't have known what to say. She couldn't very well tell Cordelia the truth: that she would almost prefer to have unleashed Angelus than be enduring the agony she was right now.

Cordelia knelt down beside Willow and wrapped her arms around her. Willow just kept sobbing. Then, somehow – maybe it was a blessing having the sort of mind she did – it occurred to her that being naked in Cordelia's arms was something Xander would probably have paid to witness. She couldn't help herself; she started laughing.

"Are you okay?" Cordelia sounded very concerned.

"Yeah," Willow finally managed to choke out through her giggles, "I just realized that Xander probably fantasized about something like this back in high school."

"About you and Angel?"

Cordelia's cluelessness only made Willow laugh harder, but after a minute she was able to gasp out a reply. "No…me…naked…with you…"

Cordelia immediately leapt to her feet and wiped her hands on her skirt. Great. Gay panic mixed with revulsion. That wasn't doing anything good for Willow's emotional state.

But then Willow heard something: laughter. And this time, it wasn't her own. Cordelia was soon leaning against the door frame, almost as hysterical as Willow had just been.

"Oh God! He so did…I just know he did."

Eventually, she calmed and smiled at Willow. "Let's get you dressed, huh? And then we can talk about this and you'll see what a bad idea it would be to do anything like this again and…"

"Cordelia." Angel was back. "I thought we established that Willow's and my friendship was none of your business."

Willow barely looked at him, just got up, sidled into the nearest corner of the bedroom, and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling odd and...well _embarrassed_ being nude in a room with two fully-clothed people.

"Friendship?" Cordelia shrieked. "Since when do friends do naked things together?"

Angel glared, but Cordelia was obviously not ready to back down, at least not entirely. "Look, I realize that you're a man and men have…needs, but do I have to remind you about your little problem? The one with the sharp teeth and the complete lack of a soul?"

"Leave. Now. Willow and I need to talk."

The glare had turned icy and Cordelia shivered. "I'm just trying to help, oh, and not get killed."

"It'll be okay. I promise." Willow spoke softly and placatingly.

Cordelia seemed more mollified by Willow's words than by Angel. The difference in manner might have been a factor. "Okay, after Willow puts her clothes on, I'll leave. But I'll be right upstairs and if I hear anything that sounds remotely non-friendly, I'll be down here with a stake so fast it will make your head spin."

Willow was hardly going to point out what little difference putting her clothes on would make or how misplaced Cordelia's worry was. After all, Angel didn't want her anymore. Since she wanted to get dressed anyway so she could leave that much faster, Willow made her way around the room, picking up her various garments, and was clothed again in no time.

An hour ago, she would have seen the look on Angel's face as disappointment; now, she had no idea what to think of it.

Cordelia, of course, was oblivious to Willow's anguish and turned to leave the room. "Just behave, okay? Because I mean it. I'm keeping my ears open for any suspicious noises from down here. No more naked stuff."

Angel growled and Cordelia scurried away, leaving Willow alone with the man who had broken her heart for good and all and was now about to make it official.

"So," Willow said. It wasn't much, but it was something. Something that wasn't silence and wasn't the sound of her life shattering into a million pieces. Would it be enough, she wondered, to know that Buffy was going to be happy?

Angel just stared. "What's wrong, Willow?"

Had he actually just asked that question? "Nothing. I'm just…" She walked up to him and put her hand on his chest, wanting to at least feel the heartbeat that represented everything he wanted…everything that wasn't her.

There was nothing. No heartbeat. Just Angel still staring at her, though now it looked as if he thought she'd finally lost her mind. "What are you doing?"

"I guess it hasn't happened yet."

"What?"

"You're not human yet. When is it going to happen?"

"What?!?" Angel seemed stunned. Did he think she was too dumb to figure things out?

"The Oracles. You went to see them, right? To tell them you'd changed your mind, that you wanted to be human again, to be with Buffy?"

If she'd punched him, she didn't think he'd look any more stunned or pained. "You thought…?" In a second, she was in his arms, being held so tightly she couldn't breathe. "Willow, I'm so sorry. I never thought…I should have said…"

She could feel Angel's tears in her hair as he held her. Finally, he loosened his hold enough for her to catch her breath and she spoke through tears of her own. "I thought…I thought you'd realized…I thought you decided you didn't want me."

He let go of her and stepped back, taking her hands in his. "I want you, Willow. Believe me. More than that. I went to see the Oracles because, after we made love, I was so incredibly happy – happier than I ever thought possible, happier than I've ever been -and I didn't lose my soul. I couldn't believe...I had to know why."

Willow was about to collapse again when Angel caught her. He led her over to the bed and held her as she began to cry once more. All her fears, all the pain…it was too much. Irrationally, she was angry at him for putting her through it for nothing.

He seemed to understand, holding her close as her sobs finally subsided and even the hiccupping ceased. After a few more moments, she spoke up. "Did you find out?"

"Sort of."

Willow waited for a moment, but when Angel didn't elaborate, she asked, "What do you mean, sort of?"

"They said my soul was safe and that you had the answer."

"Me? But… Huh?"

"I know. The Oracles…they tend to talk in riddles, not so great with specifics. That was all I could get out of them."

Willow sat for a moment, Angel's arms still around her, thinking. She had the answer? She wondered. Somewhere on a disc, she knew she had the curse, but wasn't it the same as the original? She couldn't imagine Jenny modifying it; that might have made it ineffective. Months of studying magick had taught her that spells were not to be trifled with. Changing even the most seemingly innocuous word or element could have dire consequences.

But if the spell was the same, and Angel really had been perfectly happy with her, then how...?

She was getting a headache; she sighed and leaned against Angel. When he kissed her, his intent obvious, she decided to turn her mind off for awhile and enjoy the fact that he wanted her and that they seemed to be safe for the time being. Sex might not be the answer, but it was certainly better than all these questions. They would just have to be quiet about it this time.

Tbc…


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia shares her thoughts and Willow and Angel continue to explore their relationship.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Eight)

 

They were dressed again; lying on the bed, rumpled and sated, finally having the rest of that talk which had been Willow's ostensible reason for coming back to L.A. in the first place.

"What are we going to do, Angel? Because visiting my dying aunt is an excuse that can't really work for much longer." Her head was pillowed against his chest; no heartbeat the way there had been with Oz. It wasn't at all disquieting. Maybe it was strange how easily she'd become comfortable with the silence within him, but she had and she preferred to see that as a good thing.

"You can move in with me. I sort of thought that's what would happen, anyway." His hand was stroking her hair as he spoke and his tone was easy, as if what he was doing wasn't asking her to throw away the only life she'd ever known, to abandon everyone she'd ever held dear.

She shifted, looking up into his face, amazed at the lack of any consciousness she saw there. He really _didn't_ see. Why didn't that make her angry? Make her want to rail at him for being so insensitive? Still, even if she wasn't outraged, she did have objections to voice.

"I can't. They need me." Even as she said it, she knew the words meant nothing. Maybe they _did _need her, but they certainly didn't see it that way. Buffy, Giles, Xander…when was the last time she'd felt important to them, felt as if they even saw her when she was in a room with them? This very morning, hadn't it finally become clear that she'd never been as dear to Giles as he was to her? Wasn't she living in terror of the same epiphany happening in regards to her relationships with Buffy and Xander?

But was leaving the right way to handle it? She'd never breathed a word of her feelings to her friends. What if she was wrong? What if they really did care and things had just gone badly off-track? What if there was some chance to make things right? Could she just leave town without even _trying_ to rebuild the relationships she wanted to believe she had once had with them?

"I need you more."

His words cut through her thoughts and this time, yes, she was sure she ought to be angry. It was emotional blackmail, after all, and despite how good it felt to be wanted and needed, she couldn't just let it slide.

"Angel," she reproached.

He caught the tenor of her mood immediately. "I'm sorry."

He was likely only sorry because the tactic hadn't worked rather than regretting it completely, but Willow didn't get so many apologies that she was willing to reject one out of hand. "Okay."

"I just…"

"I know. I miss you, too. But that doesn't mean I can just leave Sunnydale. Besides, how can I tell them where I'm going? They'll hate me, even if they don't know we're…you know." Angel chuckled slightly, but Willow continued. "It's not like Buffy's actually over you, and…" Now for the hard part. "Angel, her new boyfriend – Riley – he's one of those creepy commandos who put the chip in Spike. What if she gets upset and accidentally tells him about you?"

Angel looked shocked now and Willow sat up so he could do the same. "He's _what_?"

"He's one of the commandos."

Ridges nearly formed in Angel's face as his eyes flashed gold. It didn't frighten Willow so much as make her realize that he must feel much as she did about the tactics that Riley and his cohorts used.

She sat and watched, waiting for him to collect himself. A minute or so later, he spoke. "I wish I was surprised. I'm…but no, I'm not surprised."

Willow wondered what word had been meant to fill the gap, but she didn't want to ask. There was pain in his eyes and she knew it was because of what he was being forced to see in Buffy. He hadn't pressed her for the details of her own agonizing realizations today, the least she could do was show the same delicacy. Besides, she was soon caught up in difficult thoughts.

Was she, in fact, the only one shocked that her best friend could be with someone like that? It made sense, she supposed, for Spike to assume that she was one of that bunch, but Angel _knew_ Buffy, had even loved her. How could he find it easy to believe that she'd happily bed down with a sadist? Didn't he know her better than that?

Or maybe Willow was the one who didn't see clearly. Maybe she was the one whose rose-coloured glasses were so very tinted that she couldn't see anything at all.

She couldn't help it; she started to cry. In seconds, she was in Angel's arms. "Shh…it's okay." It occurred to her to wonder if he knew why she was crying. Not that it mattered – at least he cared.

The moment was shattered by a shrill voice. "I'm coming in and there'd better be no nudity." With that, Cordelia came barging into the room. "Okay, I think the bed is kind of a bad place for you two, but since you seem to be completely clothed, I'll let it pass."

Drying her eyes, Willow did her best to compose herself. Cordelia actually noticed.

"What's wrong? Did Angel do something?" She glared at her boss, whose expression had turned to righteous indignation.

"No, no," Willow said as she got off the bed.

"She was telling me about Buffy's new boyfriend," Angel explained less than helpfully.

"Did _he _do something to you?" Cordelia was touchingly indignant. "You know, you can't trust those college guys. You'd think Buffy would have learned that after almost getting us sacrificed to a giant snake. But that's Buffy, all blonde and no brains."

Willow had to giggle, even though a part of her wanted to defend Buffy against Cordelia's less than historically accurate rendition of events. Instead, she let Angel do the talking.

"No, at least I don't think so." He, too, looked at Willow with concern and it suddenly dawned on her that, practicing magic as she did, she might also be in danger from those gung ho military creeps. "He's one of the people who captured Spike, stuck that chip in his head, left him helpless." As he spoke, he sounded genuinely…well…sympathetic to Spike. After everything they'd done to each other, the many times they'd eagerly tried to kill each other…Willow was never going to understand those two.

"And Buffy's dating him?" Cordelia screeched. "Oh well. I'm not actually surprised. After all, she'll do anything to lighten her work load. She always palmed off all the research on you, me, and Giles. So if she can get her new boy toy to take all the vamps off her hands, what does she care what he does with them?"

Again, Willow had to take issue with Cordelia's memory, since she herself recalled Cordelia spending more time in the janitor's closet researching the location of Xander's tonsils than in the library researching the latest apocalypse, but she decided not to make a fuss about it. She also chose not to think about the fact that Cordelia was one more person who thought Buffy's acceptance of her boyfriend's profession was not at all out of character.

Rather to her own shock, she found herself speaking in Buffy's defense. "I don't think she's really processed it yet. I mean, you have to understand – Riley's from Iowa and…he seems so _nice_. I thought he was a great guy at first, too. Maybe Buffy just hasn't been able to connect a guy who still says 'ma'am' to the kind of people who experiment on living creatures."

"Or maybe…" A glare from Angel stopped her. Willow was grateful. She really didn't want to have more of this conversation.

Of course, that didn't mean Cordelia was left with nothing to say. "Oh, by the way, just what have you told dear, darling Buffy to get her to let you leave town and not be there to do all her boring research for her anyway?"

"I said that my Aunt Esther was in the hospital dying and I needed to visit her."

"Willow, your Aunt Esther is already dead."

She remembered. Willow had been right. Cordelia remembered. "I know that. But Buffy wasn't in Sunnydale then, so…"

"But Xander was. Didn't he blow your cover?"

Did Cordelia _have_ to ask that question? "Ummm…no, not really."

Now Cordelia _was_ in a state. "What do you mean 'no'? He's supposed to be your best friend! I didn't even _like_ you then and I remember."

"Cordelia," Angel cautioned, obviously noticing the new tears in Willow's eyes. It hurt – how easy it had been to convince Xander that he'd been wrong, how accustomed that must mean he was to not remembering things about her very well. Of course, the fact that he had never wished her a Happy Hanukkah should have told her that long ago, now shouldn't it?

But again, she sprang to the defense of one of her old friends. And again, there was even some truth in her argument. "He sort of remembered. It's just that Spike and I were able to convince him he was mistaken."

"So in other words, he's a loser and a moron. But then, how does that make him any different than he's ever been? Really, Willow, I have no idea how you put up with him all these years."

"Didn't you date him?" Angel was doing his best to stop Cordelia and Willow was so very thankful. While Cordelia's heart was undoubtedly in the right place, her tongue was doing a great deal of emotional harm.

"It was charity, okay?" And with that, and a look that could have felled the hardiest demon at twenty paces, Cordelia was obviously dismissing the whole subject.

Willow almost fired a salvo of her own by bringing up Wesley, but she decided that intentional meanness was a far worse crime than Cordelia's unthinking lack of tact, so she refrained. Besides, thinking of that man brought up an image of him in leather pants that she did _not_ need to have in her head. She could only thank her lucky stars that she hadn't been here to actually see him garbed thus.

A few awkward moments followed until Angel finally asked Cordelia, "So what brings you down here?"

For all that it was such an obvious question, it was shocking that she seemed ill-prepared to answer it. "Oh. Why am I down here? I was just…"

"Checking up on us?"

Cordelia had the good grace to blush before finally admitting the truth, though not a little bit defensively. "Hey, don't blame me for worrying, especially after walking in on Willow all naked after your 'talk'. In case you've forgotten, I was there when your oh-so-unwelcome alter ego made a guest appearance in Sunnydale." She stopped for a moment and then seemed to think of something. "And now that we're on the subject, why _didn't_ the Soulless One make a comeback, anyway? I mean, it's not like Willow hasn't got it all over Buffy and…"

Willow was now far more scarlet than Cordelia and in no condition to say anything. Again, Angel came to the rescue. "I can't lose my soul with her. At least not according to the Oracles."

"So that's what you were doing there? Why didn't you tell me that before? I wouldn't have been stressing out all this time about what was going on down here!"

"Because it was something I wanted to discuss with Willow first, seeing as how it was more about her than about _you_." Angel was irritated and Willow was actually concerned for Cordelia's job 'til she remembered that the visions probably guaranteed her continued employment.

In an amazing and uncharacteristic display of perception, Cordelia actually saw the way Angel's mood had turned and wisely changed her tone. "I'm sorry. I can see where it was probably news you wanted to share with her first." And then she went right back to being Cordelia. "Boy, won't Buffy just die when she hears about this! I so wish I could be there when you let her know that you and Willow can have the whole 'happily ever after' thing. And isn't it almost her birthday? Wow…the timing is just so eerie, especially considering that's when Angel lost his soul and all."

That was just what Willow needed - a reminder of what she was doing to a girl who, in spite of everything, she still loved like a sister, a reminder that she'd snatched the brass ring right out of her hand.

Angel was soon by her side with his arm around her. "Are you okay?" The question was ostensibly directed at her but it was clear he was asking it for Cordelia's benefit and Willow appreciated this latest effort to induce the newly-minted seer to see her way clear to embracing the concept of tact…and for longer than thirty seconds at a time.

"I just…" She didn't know what to say. How much of her emotional turmoil did she want to reveal in front of Cordelia? She might be a friend now, but that was still pretty new and Willow wasn't sure how to relate to her.

"You feel guilty?" She couldn't believe Cordelia was phrasing that sentiment as a question, but at least she seemed to have a clue. Willow tried to glare, but with her teary eyes, she wasn't convinced it came off all that well. "I don't see why. It's not like Saint Buffy has been all that wonderful to you. Besides, she's moved on and obviously you and Angel are meant to be, unlike…"

"Cordelia," Angel interposed, taking his arm from around Willow and heading over to the door as if to highlight its presence and suggest its use, "I think you've done enough damage for one day. Why don't you go upstairs and answer the phones? Last time I checked, that's what you're being paid for."

It was obvious Cordelia was going to come back with a sharp retort, but she seemed moved by Willow's rather melancholy expression and contented herself with, "Fine. If that's the way you're going to be, I'll be upstairs." And with that, she walked past Angel and huffed her way out of the room.

"_Are_ you okay?" Angel asked when his secretary-cum-seer was finally out of earshot.

"Not really." Willow sank down to the bed, not sure if she was going to full-blown cry or just sniffle a bit.

Angel sat down beside her and took her hand. "I'm sorry she upset you so much. I know she means well, but…"

"It's not her fault. Not really. All she did was point out some facts. Some facts that mean that I'm not a very good person."

Angel's arms were around her within seconds. "You're a wonderful person."

It felt good to have him hold her close, but that didn't take away the nagging feeling that she was taking someone else's place. "I just feel bad, you know? Because Buffy wanted this more than anything and…"

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't figure out how to put the words together in the right order. He seemed to understand what she meant even without them. "If I could choose…if the PTB's gave me the choice to be with Buffy instead…I'd still be right here – with you. Don't you know that by now? I _had_ my chance with her, Willow, and I gave it up of my own free will. It's not that I didn't love her. I did. It was real and I don't regret it, even if I do wish that it hadn't led to…" He paused. "But it's the past. You're my present…you're my _future_."

Those were the words that did it, that opened the floodgates and filled her so full of emotions that she could burst. Did she still feel guilty? Yes, she supposed she did. But that didn't mean there wasn't also a great deal of joy. Angel wanted her; she was his first choice…and he was hers.

Oh God.

How had this happened? How had she managed to get over Oz while not even realizing it? This morning's epiphany couldn't have been the beginning of it. That had to have just been the moment when she became consciously aware of what must have already taken place. How could anyone get over someone without having a clue it was happening?

The idea that maybe she should just be grateful and happy crossed her mind, and it was a good one, but Willow was too analytical and too compulsively devoted to ferreting out the reasons behind things to take herself up on the advice.

Angel noticed that she'd gotten lost somewhere behind her eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just wondering when I fell out of love with Oz. I mean, I don't actually remember it happening, but it did and…" She was stopped short by the look on Angel's face.

Angel's grin was an astonishing thing. He was beautiful when he was happy.

Of course, soon enough, the grin was gone…but that was because he was kissing her. It was a wonderful kiss, somehow different, though she didn't know quite why. When it was over, he was smiling again and so was she.

"I know you told me before that you accepted that you two were over, but hearing you say you don't love him anymore…"

"I know. Kind of how I felt when you said Buffy was your past."

"I guess that means we're both perfectly happy." Angel was still smiling, but Willow's brow was soon creased with thought.

Were they perfectly happy? Was Willow? She was _happy_, sure, but…no, not absolutely, deliriously worry-free happy. After all, there were too many things that weren't one hundred percent right in her world.

Buffy. She wasn't going away just because Angel didn't love her anymore. For all that she seemed so happy in her new relationship with Riley, Willow wasn't fooled. As she's said just a few minutes ago, she knew Buffy still loved Angel. Maybe that was why she was turning a blind eye to Riley's unsavory side; she was desperate for an escape, any escape, from the feelings she still had for her one true love.

At least Willow could console herself that Buffy had no memory of that second chance, the day Angel was human.

But Buffy wasn't the only thing threatening to rain on her parade; there were other clouds in her sky: Xander and Giles-shaped clouds. As much as Buffy would hate her and never forgive her if she knew about Willow and Angel, Xander and Giles wouldn't be any more accepting.

All of these things were very worrying. Because this wasn't a fling, an affair, a temporary stopgap while she pined for Oz and awaited his return – this was real and (hopefully) permanent. Willow and Angel were together. And that meant changes. Big ones. She just wasn't sure she was ready to make them.

Angel, however, was. "I guess this means you'll finally be moving down here."

"Angel," she whined, "Don't push me, okay?"

"I'm sorry," he said with almost-sincerity. "It's just…I hate it when you're not here. And I worry, I keep thinking you'll change your mind, meet someone else…"

Now it was her turn to allay some fears. "I already had that chance."

A raised eyebrow was his first response. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I did. It happened about a week ago when I was getting some clothes and stuff from the dorm. It was this girl from this dumb Wicca group I went to a couple of times. She seemed pretty interested 'til Spike warned her off by saying he was my boyfriend."

_That_ got Angel's attention. "Spike said he was your boyfriend?"

"It was just to let Tara know I wasn't available. Believe me, he's not interested in me." She had to ask:"Aren't you a little surprised that it was a girl?"

Angel chuckled. "No, not really. You're a beautiful woman, Willow. No matter what gender, people are going to find you attractive. Besides, I remember the vampire version of you and…"

"You and Buffy were lying then, weren't you?" Willow chided, though she well knew the answer to that and always had.

"Hey," Angel objected, "I didn't lie, I just…"

"Agreed with Buffy, which is pretty much the same thing." But Willow grinned to let him know she wasn't really upset with him.

He swatted her head playfully. "Minx."

She smiled even wider. Playful, carefree moments like this…when was the last time she'd had one? She wanted to tuck it away in her jewelry box with her trinkets and mementoes, to keep it safe for always.

But even if she couldn't do that, there was a permanence to it, because it had made up her mind for her at last. She took Angel's hand in hers, screwed up her courage, and spoke. "I'm…I'm going to see about moving here. I mean…you meant it, right? About me moving in?"

By way of an answer, she found herself picked up and lifted off the floor, held tight in strong arms.

"I take it that means yes?" she asked when she was back on solid ground and could breathe.

"Yes," Angel said. "And that means you'll stop covering my mark."

"Oh." She'd almost forgotten that she'd hidden it again; she whispered the words under her breath to undo the spell. Angel's eyes flashed gold. Something flashed through her mind…something that had to do with the curse and with Angel's soul, but it was lost again. What remained, however, was the certainty that the minute she got back to Sunnydale, she needed to find the computer disc with the curse and do some research.

Back to Sunnydale…not back home. She couldn't believe that transformation in her thinking.

Angel, however, didn't seem to be thinking at all, at least not the way Willow was. He had only one thing on his mind, as his actions soon made evident. His lips soon found hers and his hands began to make short work of undressing her. She had to admit, she liked how his mind worked. She followed his lead.

His skin was so smooth; she didn't think she'd ever get tired of touching him. They separated briefly to finish disrobing and then…oh then. He had her on her back, legs spread wide, his tongue doing the most glorious things. She was addicted to the way he made her feel, the way he touched her and tasted her and made her feel like the most desirable woman ever born. It wasn't long at all before she came, crying out his name, almost undone by the power of the pleasure he gave her.

But it wasn't over. Seconds later, he was inside her, taking her, possessing her. She gave herself completely, abandoning herself to their lovemaking even more than she ever had before, her nails digging into his back, her teeth into his shoulder as her body moved with his. The pleasure was building into something bigger than she thought possible and she wondered if ecstasy could kill, and if it could, did she even care?

She could have sworn she saw stars as her body seemed to explode in release and she barely felt Angel's teeth as they renewed his claim and he followed her over the edge.

It seemed a long time before she became aware of a world that wasn't bordered by their joined bodies, but eventually she did and she realized Angel was lying beside her now, staring at her, his eyes filled with…something she wasn't ready to give a name to yet. She was tired…and overwhelmed…and yes, frightened. She'd discovered so much in the last twenty-four hours, found out that so much had changed.

He seemed to understand and he gathered her into his arms. "Sleepy," she said, and he smiled. And with that, Willow's eyes closed.

Tbc…


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sunnydale, Giles is turned into a Fyarl demon and Willow learns that good deeds can be double-edged swords.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Nine)

 

Sunnydale might not be home anymore, but Willow was glad she was here now. Things had gone terribly wrong on Buffy's birthday yet again.

"I can't believe you're a Fyarl demon," Willow said for what was perhaps the tenth time. She couldn't help it; it was so strange to see Giles with horns and scaly skin. Her heart went out to him. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to wake up and find herself a demon…and not to be able to communicate with anyone anymore. Well, anyone but Spike.

"Good job I was out looking for something to kill, now wasn't it?" Spike was preening, obviously full of himself at having solved the mystery that had everyone else stumped. Willow was still fuzzy on why they weren't allowed to tell Buffy, who was actually waiting for her to ride in, laptop at the ready, right now, but as someone keeping secrets of her own, she was hardly going to tell Giles he couldn't keep this to himself.

Giles said something Willow couldn't begin to understand and Spike, the only one who knew Fyarl, didn't translate. He looked a bit…off, though, and it made Willow wonder just what Giles had said. Willow figured if it was something important, however, he'd have translated, so maybe Giles had just insulted Spike. If he did, she would probably never know.

It struck Willow that this wasn't exactly different from the way things had been even before Giles's ghastly transformation. Only it was Willow who hadn't been understood then any better than he was now. Ah, literal metaphors – how much life on the Hellmouth was full of them.

Shaking her thoughts off, she realized she was staring; she couldn't help it. The longer she looked at him, the more of Giles she could see. Maybe she was used to this kind of thing. After all, she'd always seen Oz when he was the wolf, though she'd never told him that. He'd always made it clear that he saw the wolf as something foreign, something he didn't want to be. So very different from Angel, at least the Angel _she_ knew. Her Angel seemed very comfortable with his demon side, especially when… She cursed herself as she blushed. Spike noticed and shook his head, once again seeming a bit off. Giles…well, she couldn't tell what Giles was thinking, though he did cock his head in the manner of a curious animal.

He turned to Spike and muttered something that sounded, at least to Willow's untrained ear, almost exactly like what he'd said a few moments ago. Spike failed to translate yet again. Instead, he grabbed Willow and dragged her into the kitchen.

"We need to have a chat, pet. Your little glamour doesn't seem to work on Fyarl demons. The jig's up."

"What?" Now she was well and truly panicking. "He knows about Angel?" Her voice was a stage whisper as she hoped against hope that she'd misunderstood what Spike was telling her.

"Not exactly," Spike said, "But he knows you've been claimed by a demon. It's just a bloody good thing he never had demon senses before, or he'd know the whole story."

Willow's legs almost gave out before she reached the kitchen table. She sat down heavily in one of the chairs and put her head in her hands. Why was this happening to her? Had Buffy bequeathed her bad birthday mojo to Willow?

Of course it didn't take a minute for her to get her priorities straight. Okay, it was not a good thing that Giles had tumbled to at least part of her carefully-guarded secret, but frankly, the fact that he had been transformed into a Fyarl demon was a great deal worse. Now was no time for self-pity. Besides, sooner or later, her affair with Angel was going to come to light anyway. Maybe this was just Fate telling her it was time to pack her bags and move to Los Angeles already…oh, and to find that disc with the curse.

She got up and accompanied Spike back into the living room. "We'll talk later, okay, Giles?" she said brightly. In response, he nodded his head, which she was pretty sure meant the same thing it always did. "We really ought to go find Ethan and get you back to your old self."

He turned to Spike and said something; this time Spike translated. "He's offering to let us use his car." Spike barely suppressed a chuckle at that and even Willow was slightly amused. After all, Giles's car wasn't…well, it just wasn't.

She kept her expression blessedly neutral however, and replied, "No, that's okay. It'll be faster if we take my parents' car. I've been using it go visit Aunt Esther, after all, so it's not like they'll mind my taking it for a spin in town."

Was it her imagination or did Giles look skeptical? Oh well. It didn't really matter. He needed her help too badly to question her right now and…hey! It just occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, this would be like the time Xander was possessed by the hyena and Giles would forget everything that happened while he was a demon. Of course, there _was_ the fact that Willow had never actually believed that Xander forgot anything at all, but now was not the time to talk herself out of a perfectly serviceable pipe dream. No, all she had to do was keep the rose-coloured glasses on and everything would be fine…it would…really.

Within two minutes they were in Willow's car, Spike and Giles in the back seat, with its tinted windows keeping the current Fyarl demon safe out of sight of the commandos or any Sunnydale resident who might somehow not be a willfully oblivious idiot.

Willow drove carefully, trying not to be distracted by trying to figure out what Giles was saying, but she couldn't help her curiosity. He sounded pained, and his voice seemed to be changing. What was he telling Spike?

"Well, you got the mucus thing," Spike said, in response to whatever it was Giles had said. More odd sounds which were gibberish to Willow followed and then Spike continued. "Paralyzing mucus. Shoots out through the nose. Sets up fast, too. Hard as a rock." Gibberish again. "Maybe, but if you feel a sneeze coming on, warn me."

Willow was going to ask what the heck they were talking about, because it sounded like Giles had some sort of truly repulsive demonic traits now, but she was stopped by frantic, guttural sounds and then Spike yelling, "Turn here!"

As she was trying to keep from wrecking her parents' car, the conversation in the back seat continued.

"Good times. Go with it." Giles said something and then Spike came back with "It's fun. I can't do it. Do it for me. Let yourself go."

"What are you guys talking about?" Willow was more than a bit nervous. The end of the conversation she was privy to was rather unsettling.

"Just two demons having a chat. Keep driving."

"Spike," she warned, her voice low and heavy with the threat of no more cable and hot cocoa.

"Okay, okay. He's just starting to feel his oats a bit, that's all."

"Spike, I know there's something you're not telling me, and I'm pretty sure it's something I need to know."

"It's really nothing." A raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror was all it took. Could it be that Spike really _was_ her friend, that he really _did_ care? "It's just…well…Fyarl demons are pretty much the 'all brawn, no brains' type, y'know? All they're really good for is takin' orders. Kind of an odd and sadistic choice to make the Watcher here one of 'em."

Another glance into the rearview almost made Willow swerve off the road. There was the faintest glint of tears in Giles's eyes. "Spike," she hissed. "You do realize that he can understand English, right?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right. Sorry about that." Spike sounded apologetic, but Willow couldn't afford to take her eyes off the road to turn back and look at his face.

Giles said something to Spike just as Willow was about to turn a corner and she suddenly found herself being ordered to stop the car. The moment she got to the curb, Giles bounded out the door. Had he spotted Ethan?

No, it was Maggie Walsh. Giles was chasing her and doing a laughably childish 'ooga booga' routine. Willow's respect for the woman vanished completely as she watched her run away, shrieking like a frightened ten year old.

"Get back in the car!" she yelled out the window as Giles came lumbering back, looking unnaturally pleased with himself. "If I were an annoying but powerful Chaos Mage, where would I be?" she muttered to herself as Giles got in and she began driving once more, desperate to find Ethan Rayne.

"Don't be in such a hurry. I rather like him like this." Spike patted Giles's knee. "Good job there. You're getting pretty good at this demon business."

Willow didn't bother to chastise Spike. To him, Giles must seem like the luckiest man in the world. And besides, a likely location to find Ethan Rayne hit her like a bolt from the blue. "The Sunnydale Motor Inn! He's got to be there. A tacky roach motel like that is the perfect hideout for a bad guy who doesn't want to be noticed."

Giles made some noises that sounded very approving and Willow turned right onto the street that would take them straight to the faded doors and flickering neon of the cheapest, sleaziest motel in town.

Unfortunately, it seemed that her inspiration was the last stroke of luck they were destined to have. "Spike," she said, voice shaking, "Are those cars behind us what I think they are and really hope they aren't?"

"Yeah, pet. Government. The bloody Initiative's on our tail."

"Oh no…oh God…what do we do?" Willow was shaking so badly she could scarcely steer.

"I won't let anything happen to you." Spike sounded more concerned and sincere than she'd ever thought possible.

"I was more worried about you and Giles, but thanks."

"Don't kid yourself. You're with us and that means they'll lump you right in with our lot."

At that moment, Giles managed to distract them both. The sound of shattering glass gave Willow something to focus on besides the near revelation of her claimed status. He'd just put his fist through her car window. "Giles! This is my parents' car!"

A noise that Spike informed her was an apology wouldn't pay for the damage, but it would do for now, she supposed, especially since it was more than likely she'd have bigger things to worry about soon – like just what the Initiative did to people who hung out with vampires and Fyarl demons…and what if they could see through her glamour the way that demons could? She was scared, more scared than she'd ever been of anything. Dying was one thing, but being experimented on the way that Spike had been…

Somewhere in the tangled mess her mind was she could hear Spike and Giles arguing about something. All of a sudden, Spike leapt over the seat and was now beside her. Righting himself, he shoved her hard against the door, nearly crushing her, and grabbed the wheel. "Hey!" she yelled as he kicked her feet out of the way to take over the pedals. At the same time, Giles tumbled out the back door of the car just as they neared the motel. Okay, splitting up was a tried and true plan, but that left her and Spike as the ones most likely to wind up in a sterile white room since the cars seemed determined to stay on their tail. As much as she herself dreaded the prospect of being captured, she was terrified for Spike. She couldn't imagine what lay in store for a vampire who had escaped Initiative clutches upon recapture.

"Spike," she said with as much feeling as her limited ability to breathe afforded, "What are we going to do?"

"This," he said, smiling in a way that gave Willow the oddest confidence. This might all be frightening for her, but Spike seemed in his element now and that gave her a great deal of hope. He knew what he was doing. They would be okay. She only hoped the same was true for Giles.

Suddenly, he turned the car sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding smashing into a wall, and flipped the hardest u-turn Willow had ever experienced outside of a movie theatre. "Hold on," he said, rather belatedly.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she was gratified by the sight of the two military vehicles smashing into each other after failing to complete that same maneuver. Unfortunately, her elation did nothing to combat her constricted respiration or the rather extreme nausea Spike's daredevil antics had brought about.

"Did you see that?" he crowed, oblivious to the fact that she was still smashed against the driver's side door and finding breathing an onerous task.

"Could you maybe move over and let me drive now, Spike?" she asked.

He hit the brakes and put the car in park, moving over afterwards to allow her to take over once more. "Sorry about that."

"No need to apologize. You just saved our lives and all. Thanks, by the way. I really…it was a nice thing for you to do."

"Yeah, well, calling me nice is a funny way to show your gratitude, I'd say."

Oh great. She'd offended him. The stress of tonight was starting to get to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just a figure of speech, okay?"

The depth of emotion she was experiencing must have shown on her face because Spike seemed willing to let it go. "Yeah, alright, whatever. Let's get to the motel, shall we? Before Rupert goes completely Fyarl on his old chum and winds up a demon forever. Which, by the way, would actually be an improvement, though I doubt the Slayer and the moron would see it that way. Uptight goody-two shoes."

By this time, Willow had started driving again and they were at the motel in a trice. No sooner had they gotten out of the car, then the sound of smashing objects and loud voices gave them a good idea where Giles and Ethan could be found. Willow, however, spotted something else.

"Spike! That's Riley's car. Stay here, okay? I don't trust him." She handed him the keys to her car. "If you need to make a getaway, just take my car." With that, she impulsively gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for everything."

Spike was staring at her in astonishment and something she could hardly believe…admiration. "Peaches finally picked himself a proper mate. You're far too good for him, of course, but I think I like having you in the family."

She didn't know what to say and didn't have time to think of something, so she shot him a smile and made a run for the noisy room.

When she got there, Riley was beating the hell out of Ethan Rayne, which was a very good thing. But Buffy was about to stab Giles, which was very, very bad.

"Buffy! Stop! That's Giles!" she yelled, just as Buffy plunged a letter opener into Giles's chest.

"Oh God!" Willow screamed as she ran to where Buffy was kneeling over him, the light of understanding having finally dawned in her friend's eyes.

"Please don't die," Buffy moaned as she stared into the rather irritated-looking eyes of her Watcher. Willow was just grateful that he wasn't dead or even, it seemed, dying.

"Is this thing real silver?" Buffy asked of everyone and no one as she held up a letter opener. In the meantime, Riley managed to subdue Ethan.

Willow stomped over and glared at the creepy mage. "I think it's time for a reversal spell, don't you?"

He stared at her for a moment, puzzled, confused, and finally irritated. Damn magicians and their heightened senses. Oh well, he might know there was something magical about her, but it seemed he couldn't see exactly what it was and for that Willow was profoundly grateful.

"I'm surprised you didn't do it yourself, little witch," he whispered.

Soft as his voice was, it wasn't too soft for the man still holding him fast. Willow did her best to think on her feet. "Name-calling isn't going to do you any good right now. Just fix Giles."

Riley let him go and he gave her a mock salute, his eyes locked on hers. There was an old expression about feeling as if someone had walked over your grave. It was a perfect description of the way his eyes made her feel right now.

"I know you," he whispered as he walked by her on his way to his suitcase. This time she was the only one who heard, but she shivered all the same.

Giles got up and sat on the bed, Buffy by his side. He didn't even glance at Willow. It shouldn't hurt, but it did. She'd risked her life helping him tonight, yet in the end, the only person in the world who mattered was Buffy. She closed her eyes. She saw Angel, yes, but she also saw Cordelia and Spike, Xander and Buffy, even Giles. She wondered if he realized how tiny his world was compared to hers. For all his learning and his travels, he lived on a planet smaller than the one inhabited by a girl who'd never been farther from home than Los Angeles.

She shook her head, not caring if anyone wondered what she was thinking. Time to watch Ethan work his magic…literally. She took mental notes as she saw him lay out the tools he would use and draw his circle and she listened carefully to the words of the spell. It seemed a far simpler thing than she'd imagined. Ethan might have even had a point about her being able to do it herself. Of course, that might just be egotism on her part, but still…someday…

And then it was over. In a flash of rather acrid smoke, a shirtless, human Giles stood before them. Willow decided to pay him the same amount of attention he paid her. She barely noticed as he ran to Ethan's things and grabbed a rather tasteless shirt. Her focus was on Ethan. What might he say next?

Luckily, he seemed preoccupied and depressed about his latest failure as he remained seated in front of the remnants of the spell. "I've really got to learn to just do the damage and get out of town. It's the stay-and-gloat that gets me every time."

Riley was on the phone and Willow got a very bad feeling. She figured it was about time for her to beat a hasty retreat. "Looks like you guys have it covered, so I'll just be heading home, okay?"

Buffy looked as if she had questions, but she seemed reluctant to ask them in front of her shiny new commando. Thank Hell for that, she thought. The words had come unbidden and it made her wonder once more about herself.

"Willow," Giles's voice stopped her at the wreckage of what had been the door, "We need to talk later."

And now she truly astonished herself. "No, Giles, we don't. Oh, and you're welcome." With that, she was gone, heading out to the parking lot in as close to a run as she could manage without sacrificing her dignity.

Spike seemed to understand the moment he saw her. "Need me to drive?"

"No, I'm fine. But we need to get out of here. I have a feeling a fresh batch of government creeps are about to come swarming in. Riley made a hush-hush phone call and that can't be good."

"Is the Watcher alright then?"

"Giles? Yeah, he's fine. We got Ethan to do the reversal spell. Giles has Buffy and everything's right back to normal."

She could feel Spike's stare as they drove without speaking for a moment. Stares, like silences, came in so many varieties. Spike's gaze was searching, but also comforting. Willow fought to keep the tears at bay.

"It's not right," he finally said, "But that's the way of things, I guess. You and me, no one ever appreciates us. Of course, now you have my ridiculous poof of a sire…"

"And you have me. I mean, not the same way, of course, but I appreciate you. At least, I try to." She paused for a moment. "I didn't mean to call you nice. I really didn't."

Spike laughed, but not very heartily. "I know you didn't. You're just not used to the way demons are yet, real ones, I mean. You'll get there."

"Yeah." Her voice trailed off and she stared straight ahead. The road was bleak, even with the lights. "You know what he said, Spike?" Her voice stunned her. She sounded like a little girl. "He said that we need to talk later. Not thank you or anything like that. It was like nothing mattered except something supernatural that might affect Buffy."

The hand on her shoulder was almost agonizing, burning her with its reminder of everything she'd pretended she had for so long, everything she hadn't really had until now.

The rest of the drive was quiet, punctuated only by the shifting of Spike in his seat or a soft sigh from Willow. Spike was there, though, really there, and if he was silent, it was because he knew that there was nothing to say, not that he was uncomfortable with Willow's pain.

How on Earth had he become such a good friend in what seemed like the blink of an eye?

Back at the house, they both sat in the car for a moment. No reason, really, unless maybe they were both trying to find a way to leave the bad thoughts outside instead of carrying them indoors with them. Perhaps Spike managed; Willow didn't. But she got out of the car at last anyway, making a mental note to take it in to get that back window repaired in the morning, and Spike followed her into the house.

They trudged, there was no other word for it, into the living room and sat on the sofa. The remote was before him on the table, but Spike didn't even reach for it. "You gonna be okay?"

"Sure thing. Why wouldn't I be?" She tried to smile, but she was pretty sure it looked more like showing her teeth to her orthodontist. And then, out of nowhere, she came out with the news. "I'm moving to L.A."

Spike looked betrayed and angry and hurt all at once and Willow could hardly blame him. Of course he would see it as abandonment and betrayal. "Lucky you. Give my regards to all the movie stars and such." He got up, heading for the door. Willow knew if he left she would never see him again.

"Come with me." What on Earth had made her say that? Angel hated him. He hated Angel. But…she couldn't leave him here, trapped in a town crawling with enemies he was helpless to fight. All alone with no friends…it was wrong. Angel would certainly agree with that. It's not as if he'd actually live with them. They could find somewhere for him to stay. There was no way she was leaving him behind.

"I don't want your pity," he spat out. But he stood still, not walking towards the door anymore.

"It's not pity, okay? I really want you to come. I just didn't say it right. I'm tired and upset and I'm not doing well with words in general tonight, in case you hadn't noticed, but I'm not leaving Sunnydale without you. We're family, like you said, and there's no way I'm leaving you here. Besides, if I did, you'd figure out a way to kill Buffy, chip or no, and I'd feel guilty and then…" Her voice trailed off as she waited to see how he'd react.

Spike's smile almost reached his eyes. He believed her, or at least he wanted to, and that was, as Willow knew full well, close enough to the real thing to serve. "Okay. Count me in. Besides, how could I say no to a chance to annoy the poof?"

"Spike," she warned.

"Oh, c'mon. If I'm on my best behaviour with Angelus, he'll think I'm up to something. We've never got on pet, and we never will. It's the way things are."

He had a point, she supposed. Still, she figured she ought to try to get him to agree to a few rules that would make things easier, if only because she didn't want Angel to hate her for springing this on him. She was perilously close to being in…she couldn't say the word yet, but the feeling was there, and she couldn't bear the heartbreak of losing him now.

But just as she was about to start laying out a few suggestions to Spike, the doorbell rang.

Who on Earth was calling on her at this hour? For a moment she feared it might be the Initiative, but she figured they would have just broken the door down. With that comforting thought, she turned to Spike.

"It's the Watcher," he informed her. She didn't marvel at his ability to know such things. She was too well-used to being around creatures with enhanced senses. "Want me to send him packing?"

"No. I pretty much knew this was coming. But thanks." She gave Spike a small smile before taking a deep breath, preparing for the drama to come.

"Giles," she said tonelessly as she opened the door and saw her unwelcome visitor, "What brings you here?"

"Willow," he said, his tone formal and distant, a jarring contrast to the loud satin shirt he still wore. "I know it's rather late, but I..I wanted to talk with you about something."

Without her knowing it, Spike had come up right behind her. "Watcher," he said, with a joviality so patently false it would have shamed an airline stewardess, "Nice to see you so quick to pay your debts." Willow was confused, but he was ready with an explanation. "Giles offered me $200 to help him out, and another $100 for leading the Initiative away from him at the motel."

"Oh. Well, since Spike did his job, you really ought to pay him." She folded her arms and stood expectantly, not even allowing him to walk in the door.

He caved under their combined stares and reached into his pocket. Taking out his wallet, he pulled out a few crumpled bills. "I only have $120 at the moment." He handed the money to Spike, who seemed about to grab the wallet for himself to check. He refrained, but none too happily, she could tell.

"I'm sure he's good for it, Spike," Willow said in her most conciliatory tone. Of course, there was no getting out of the distasteful confrontation now. "Come in, Giles," she said.

She stepped back and he entered her house, closing the door behind him. To her surprise, Spike took her hand as they made their way into the living room. She wasn't going to have to go through this alone. She just hoped that would be enough to get her through.

Tbc…


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow and Giles reach a new understanding as important truths are revealed.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Ten)

 

They were all in the living room now, the silence awkward and uncomfortable. Willow sat on the sofa next to Spike, holding tight to his hand like a child on a roller coaster. Giles sat stiffly in a chair facing them; after a few seconds of restraint and odd hand movements, he couldn't keep from taking off his glasses and polishing them. Willow felt the ghost of warm amusement, but she couldn't lose herself in the comfort that gesture used to bring. It might be familiar, but that no longer meant much.

"So," she said. Not the first time of late that a meaningless monosyllabic word was all she could think of to break the ice.

"Yes," Giles replied. He was no stranger to the meaningless single word himself.

Spike seemed…tense? Impatient? It was one of those; Willow could sense it in the way his hand felt restless in hers, even though his fingers hadn't so much as twitched. He didn't speak; Willow was amazed by that.

She turned to look at him and their eyes locked. It was as if he was staring his courage right into her, his disdain for the rules, even for courtesy. She realized he wasn't going to fight her battle for her; he knew it was one she needed to win or lose all on her own.

"I'm guessing there's a lecture you're planning on giving me, right?"

Her words seemed to take him by surprise. He probably wasn't expecting her to take an offensive posture. "Why would you…?"

Willow interrupted. "Why would I what? Assume you were here to chastise me? Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you've never, ever been here before? Maybe the fact that tonight, after Spike and I risked our _lives_ to help you, all you could do was give me a disapproving look and tell me we need to talk in that tone that means that I'm just not good enough, that I've let you down." She was off the couch now, no longer drawing strength from Spike's hand in hers. She was using her own instead as years' worth of pent-up bitterness and hurt poured out. "So go ahead, let's hear what horrible thing Willow's done." She sat down hard and dramatically, hands in her lap, a caricature of the perfect schoolchild.

Giles seemed shocked by what she'd said. "I…Have things really got to such a bad state?"

"Yeah, Watcher, they have." Willow should have known Spike wouldn't keep his mouth shut forever.

"Spike," she chided gently, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

"By any chance could we have this conversation alone?" Giles looked pointedly at Spike.

Spike looked at her. She nodded. She was ready to stand up _for_ herself _by_ herself.

"All right then, I'll just be in the kitchen. All this 'saving the lives of ungrateful wankers' nonsense made me hungry." With that, and one last squeeze of her hand, Spike got up and left the room.

She was on her own.

"So." This time from Giles.

"Alone at last," Willow said, falling back into her old habit of placatory and mood-lightening behaviour. She decided to shoot herself in the foot before the behaviour worked. "Time to chew me out, right? Ask me questions, polish your glasses a lot, tell me how I've let you down?"

He said nothing for a long moment, just stared. "Things really have gone off-track, haven't they?"

"And it only took me screaming and yelling and spelling it all out for you to notice. Gee." Maybe she should have been kinder, but she was bitter, still so bitter, and her heart hurt too much for tolerance and understanding.

"Willow, I…"

"No, no, it's okay. I mean, hey, I'm not Buffy, so why should you even care?"

"That's not fair."

Ah, the word 'fair.' Willow was starting to think it was the funniest word in the English language. "No, Giles, you know what's not fair? The fact that Spike and I almost wound up in a lab being experimented on or worse trying to protect you and you haven't said thank you to either one of us. The fact that you only notice me when there's something you need me to do for you, like look things up on the computer while you constantly insult it and, by implication, insult _me_. The fact that you never cared that I was grieving over Jenny, too. The fact that all I am to you is some tool in Buffy's fight against evil. I'm just Mr. Pointy with a laptop. That's what's not fair." Until she spoke, Willow hadn't realized just how far back her bitterness went or how many things she was hurting over. It knocked the wind out of her.

Giles, too, seemed stunned by what she'd said. She thought for a moment that there might be tears in his eyes. "I had no idea."

She couldn't allow herself to be moved. "No idea? What? That I'm human? That I have feelings? That I don't just exist when you need things done?" Off the couch now, she paced the room, letting herself get distracted by ridiculous thoughts. Spike was right; this was a horrible room. Why on Earth had her parents decorated it this way? It looked like the epitome of wholesome WASP tastelessness. They were _Jewish_, for pity's sake. It was so completely wrong.

Giles's voice brought her out of her superficial reverie. "I had no idea that I was hurting you, that I was so thoughtless. If you'd said…"

"And the fact that I'm supposed to _remind_ you that I'm a real person…?"

"You're right." He took his glasses off, but seemed to forget to polish them. He simply put them back on. "I do seem to have taken you for granted and I see where you would think that I don't care, but…"

"But?" She stood, arms akimbo, waiting for the excuse.

If he'd been expecting her to soften, he was disappointed. He was, at the very least, highly uncomfortable now. "But I do care. I do. Do you remember when the vampire version of you was brought here? When we all thought you'd died?" Willow nodded. "I felt…I can't begin to tell you how grief-stricken I was. "

Again, she was unmoved. "Yeah, I remember that day. I got a big hug. Then the next day it was business as usual. 'Willow, do this.' 'Willow, do that.' Never a please or a thank you or any acknowledgement that what I did meant a damn thing. Just like tonight. Spike and I save your life and…"

"And I didn't thank you. I'm…I'm so sorry…I don't know why I…"

"Because Buffy was there and she's the only one who matters. I get it. I really do. But let's just stop pretending that we're anything but coworkers from now on, okay? We work for a company that fights evil. We're not friends, we're not family, we've just been doing a job together."

"That isn't true. I care about you a great deal."

"Yeah, right. Sure thing. Thanks. I feel so much better now. It's a real 'hills are alive' kind of moment for me." Giles looked as if he'd been punched when those last words came out, and Willow was pretty sure she'd gone a bit far, but unringing the bell wasn't possible. Still, an apology was in order. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Quite." Oh great. Now _he_ was seeing himself as the aggrieved party.

"Guess now you kinda know what it's like, huh?" That caught him unawares. Willow kept going. "Kinda like the way I felt when you told me I needed to go through my problems, but what you really meant was that I had no right to have them for longer than five minutes because it was inconvenient for you. The way I felt when Buffy and Xander abandoned me and talked behind my back. Yeah, maybe now you kind of have an idea of what it's like when people whose friendship you've always counted on treat you like garbage."

"You're right." There was nothing more unexpected he could have said. She collapsed onto the couch. "At least, you certainly have reason to see things that way. But, Willow, it's not that we meant…at least…it's simply that…it's hard for me to know what to do when you're in pain. You always seem so bright, so cheerful, and then when…well, when Oz departed, it was if you'd become someone else, someone damaged and broken and I don't know that any of us knew what to do."

"Listening would have been nice. Maybe acting like you cared? Not whining at me to stop moping? Those would all have been very good things."

"Yes, they would. And I can see that we made a lot of mistakes. But Willow, we do love you. And this…this _relationship_ with Spike is…"

She stood up in a flash. "Oh! You think I'm having sex with Spike?" The word 'sex' made Giles wince. Bonus. "You think that's what you smelled tonight?" Fyarl demons really _weren't_ that bright, were they? Or was there a family resemblance to the scent of Angel's claim? "_That's_ what this is about. All these phony apologies and this pretense of caring."

"There's no pretense involved. I'm worried _because _I care. Spike is a very dangerous and cunning creature and…"

"There's no way he'd actually give a damn about Willow the Loser, right? Because, hey, the mousy little geek couldn't hang onto a werewolf, so why would anyone else ever find her attractive?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, well what did you mean, Watcher?" Spike was back. "Because I heard every word and nowhere in there did I hear any that convinced me. Oh, and as to Willow and me, we're not shagging. Not that I've never thought about it." He leered at Willow and gave her a once-over that didn't make her uncomfortable at all. "Hell, when I kidnapped her, she damn near made me forget Dru's name."

"Really?" she interrupted.

"Sure thing, pet." He turned his attention back to Giles. "We're friends now, though, and she's not really the type for that whole 'friends with benefits' thing, as you call it. But I care about her and I like her and it's got nothing to do with any plot or plan or any other ridiculous notion you've got in your head. She's a hell of a girl and I'd say that even if she didn't have cable." He winked at her.

"Yes, she is," Giles agreed. "And Willow, I never mean to imply that I didn't think anyone would find you attractive. It's simply that…"

"Spike's a demon?" she interposed. "So were you a little while ago."

"Yes, but…"

"But what? You were a demon. That didn't make any difference to me."

Giles suddenly had the oddest expression on his face and silence prevailed for a few moments.

"What?" Spike finally said.

Giles glared at him. "I was remembering something I said when…," he turned to Willow, "when we thought you had died. I said that you were the best of all of us."

"Yeah, well, maybe saying it to her while she's alive would work better." Spike wasn't having a word of it, obviously.

Willow, on the other hand, was. Bitterness wasn't who she was, at least she hoped not, and given enough of an excuse, she could let go of at least a piece of it.

"It's okay, Spike."

"You're kidding, right? After the way you've been treated?"

"It's as much my fault as anybody's," she said. "Giles kind of had a point earlier. I should have said something. I should have said something a long time ago. Maybe things would be different now if I had." She went to Giles and put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry that I let things get this bad before I spoke up."

That's when Willow found herself being hugged by Giles for the second time in her life. "I hope this means you'll give me another chance."

"Of course it does. "

If she thought she'd managed to get away scot free however, she was wrong. He let go of her and asked the one question she feared more than anything. "Willow, if Spike isn't the demon whose claim I smelled on you earlier - and looking back on it now, I suppose it was ridiculous of me to believe it was him, given his condition - then who…or was I wrong? Admittedly, I was rather new to being a demon and I could easily have been mistaken, I suppose…"

She walked over to Spike, willing him to provide her with an answer that wasn't honesty, but knowing that she wouldn't use it if he did. Time for truth. She whispered the words that revoked the glamour. Giles's eyes went wide. "You weren't mistaken, but no, it's not Spike. It's…"

"Angel," Giles breathed. Now he was the one to collapse onto the sofa. "Oh dear lord. How did this happen?"

"Well, Watcher, I should think you'd know this by now, but first the man puts his…"

"Spike!" Willow hissed, blushing to the roots of her hair while stifling an inappropriate fit of giggling.

Again, Giles was taken aback, but he regrouped quickly. "I take it this means that you and Angel are…"

"Lovers. Yeah, we are. And before you yell at me about the curse, he went to see The Oracles and it turns out he won't lose his soul with me. I have to find the disc with the curse on it to figure out exactly why, but according to the Powers That Be, Angel and I can…well we _can_, and his soul won't go anywhere."

"So, your visits to your Aunt Esther…they…"

"Never happened."

"And she's been…"

"Dead since I was in the fifth grade."

He looked at her for a few seconds and she was sure he was about to chastise her for her dishonesty. "I can imagine it must have hurt…the way Xander was so easily fooled."

She was disoriented enough by his unexpected reaction to blurt out the truth. "It did."

There was silence as Giles seemed to be mulling things over. "I don't know what to do, really. I certainly will say that I would have liked for you to become involved with someone else, someone more deserving of you, someone who isn't a murderer…"

"Someone who isn't Buffy's? Isn't that what you mean?"

"No, I don't mean that at all. Buffy's moved on, though her choice might be questionable, and…"

"And what?"

"And if he hadn't also, I don't believe he would have left. Unpopular as my opinion may be, and as afraid as I have been to voice it before, I don't think Angel felt the same after he…after he came back."

Now that was a stunner. Even Spike was shocked, and it showed. Soon, however, his slack jaw and wide eyes gave way to a look of grudging respect. Another surprise – Spike giving up his disdain for Giles.

"Be that as it may," Giles continued, "I don't think this is something we ought to tell Buffy about, at least not for the time being."

Willow could not possibly have agreed more and she was vastly relieved by Giles's attitude.

"May I ask how this…_relationship_ began?"

"It didn't start here if that's what you're afraid of." Giles shook his head in denial. "I…I thought maybe Oz had gone to Los Angeles, that he'd asked Angel to help him control the wolf. So I went there looking for him. Only he wasn't there, and... It wasn't as if I meant for this to happen. Angel didn't either. At first I thought it was nothing, just a comfort thing. Two people who were lonely and sad just…being less lonely and sad. But then…it turned into _something_. I guess maybe I should have known that it would, seeing as how he claimed me the first time we were together."

"Oh dear lord," Giles said again. But what else could he say? She understood that, from his point of view, this must all seem foolish and dangerous.

"We thought…the first time, he said that he kept his soul because…because I didn't love him." The last words trailed off, her voice getting lost in the noise of realizing just what Angel had actually said for the first time. He'd told her that he hadn't lost his soul because _she _didn't love _him_…not because _they_ didn't love each _other_, not because _he_ didn't love _her_, but… "Oh," she whispered.

"I tried to tell you, pet," Spike said, reading the expression on her face and the tone of her voice as perfectly as he'd understood Fyarl.

He was right; he had, only she hadn't understood him. English could be as foreign as any demon tongue, she supposed; you could get lost in what you _thought_ was being said and miss the actual meaning.

Willow sat down beside Giles and took his hand. "I know this seems rash and sudden and it's not what you think is right for me, but…"

"You love him." The words were said simply and with no great emotion, but Willow still found it hard to breathe.

"Yes, yes I do." She was going to save saying the actual words for Angel. By rights, he should have been the first to know. "And there's one more thing. I'm," she paused for a moment and looked at Spike. "_We_ are moving to Los Angeles."

Giles seemed hurt and horrified all at once. "Willow, how can you leave your home, your friends, your family?"

That last word got her back up all over again. "My parents haven't been home since before we had to blow up the school. I'm not even sure they know that I'm a student at UC Sunnydale. Believe me, leaving them? Not a big deal."

"I meant Buffy and Xander and…and me."

Now Willow's eyes welled up, but she wasn't going to let a night's sentiment change her mind. "Giles, I have to do this. I can make a real difference working with Angel and…I like being important. As a person, not just as research-and-sort-of-magic-girl. Cordelia and I are actually becoming friends and…we talk… She actually _wants_ me there. I can't remember the last time I felt like Buffy or Xander wanted me around. I cried in front of Cordelia and she didn't go running in the opposite direction or try to shut me up. It felt good, you know?"

"Yes, but if you talked to them the way you've talked to me tonight…"

"Nothing would change. Giles, I know you mean everything you've said, but if I stay in Sunnydale, within a day, maybe a week, everything will go back to the way it was. It's been like this for too long for things to change. It's no one's fault, or maybe it's everyone's fault, but that's the way it is. If you're honest, you'll see it's true. I need to go. Maybe me being somewhere else will break the pattern. Maybe we can start again all fresh and new and when I visit we can be close the way we should be. But no matter what, I have to do this. Whether Angel and I work out or not, I know that leaving is what's best for me. I love you guys, and I will always will, but…"

"You're growing up and you need to make your own way."

It was something like that. Close enough that she answered Giles with a nod and let the matter drop. He knew the 'more' of it deep down and that was what counted.

"What are you going to tell Buffy and Xander?"

"Yeah, pet, I'd kind of like to know that myself."

"I figured I'd tell them that Angel offered me a job and leave it at that. It's close enough to the truth that I can still keep in touch and…"

"Not so close to the truth that you'd risk being the first human Buffy ever staked if you came back to visit." Spike knew how to cut to the heart of a matter, that was for certain.

"That seems sensible. I'm sure you know you can rely on my discretion. But…"

"I know. You want me to stay. A part of me does, too. This is my home. It always will be. I'll come back and visit. A lot. I promise." She took a chance and hugged Giles, hoping that wasn't too much physical affection for one night. He surprised her by returning the embrace.

"Please take care. And call me if you ever need anything."

The way he was acting, she could tell Giles assumed she was leaving right away. She hadn't planned to, but then again…why not? Why not just pack her bags and go? She knew Spike wouldn't mind, that was for sure.

"Does Angel know…about Spike, I mean?" Oh yeah, there was _that_.

"Umm…I kind of still have to tell him. But I'm pretty sure it will be okay. It has to be. I won't leave Spike here with those commandos all over the place. Especially not now that Buffy's dating one."

"Yes, quite." Nice to know that Giles actually saw her side of the matter.

"Don't forget you still owe me $180, Watcher. I expect to be paid before the little lady and I head off to live with Dad." Spike was obviously not comfortable with the direction the conversation was going in. She understood. He hated being reminded of how vulnerable he was.

"Of course. I haven't forgotten." He paused for a moment, reaching into someplace that wasn't his wallet to repay the part of the debt that money wouldn't cover. "Thank you, Spike. You risked your well-being and your life for me and…I'm grateful."

Spike's expression vacillated between discomfiture and something that looked oddly like gratitude until it finally settled into the familiar sneer. "Yeah well, that's nice, but it won't cover my expenses. Take care to have that cash for me soon."

Giles decided not to take umbrage at Spike's less than gracious reception of his gratitude."Thank you, too, Willow. You risked your life as well. Heaven knows what could have happened to you, and…"

"It's okay. You're worth it." A few hours ago, maybe even while she was actually taking the risks, she wouldn't have necessarily felt that way, but she did now and that was what counted. Giles cared, he cared a great deal. And while she knew she was right and that staying would only mean a swift return to the status quo, she also understood that it didn't mean he didn't have any regard for her or for her feelings. He'd just grown so used to taking her for granted that he didn't even realize that's what he was doing. Somehow, while it didn't change anything, it changed everything, or at least made it hurt less. That was something.

A few more remarks were made by all, but they were superfluous and existed merely to smooth out the awkward edges of leave-taking after such an emotional confrontation. Soon enough, the door closed behind her visitor and the sounds of the Citroen gasping and choking its way down her drive and onto the street faded into the eerie calm of the Sunnydale darkness.

Spike pulled her into his arms, stiff and uncertain about it, but there was warmth in the gesture. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," she replied, her words muffled against his chest. He reminded her oddly of Jesse, though she couldn't quite put her finger on how or why. It made her think of him, though, and she was happy. She'd kept her promise to remember her old friend each day.

They broke apart. Neither of them knew just what to say, so they didn't say anything. Willow marveled at herself. There had been a time not so long ago when having no idea what to talk about wouldn't have stopped her from babbling away. Was it maturity, wisdom, or had she simply exhausted her store of nonsense after a lifetime of rattling on and on?

Still, like it or not, words at the ready or no, there was one thing more she was going to have to talk about tonight. After all, she was tired enough and flushed with success enough to brave it now. Who knew what the morning would bring?

Without pausing to discuss it with Spike, she headed straight for the phone and dialed a familiar number. No need, after all, to wonder if the one she was calling was awake when dawn was still hours off.

The phone rang once, then again, until it was picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Angel." Did her voice sound like a bad impression of Minnie Mouse or was that just her?

"Willow, what's wrong?" Oh. Her voice really _did_ sound fake and bizarre.

"I…I'm gonna be there soon. Maybe in a couple of days."

"That's great news!" He paused for a moment and Willow could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. "Why do you sound so worried? Are you afraid I've changed my mind? Because I thought you realized that…"

It was now or never. "I'm bringing Spike."

Tbc…


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow gets all her ducks in a row and prepares to leave town with Spike.

Later in the Ashes (Chapter Eleven)

 

There was silence at the other end of the line for a moment before Angel spoke. Willow's heart stopped beating until he did.

"Put him on the phone."

Somehow, those were not the most reassuring words Willow could have heard, but she hastened to obey nonetheless. She looked over at Spike and held the receiver out to him. "Angel wants to talk to you."

"So dear ol' dad wants to lay down the law, eh?" Spike's casual words belied the hand that shook as he took the phone.

Spike's mouth opened to speak, but it seemed he was cut off by the voice on the other end. She wished she could go upstairs and listen in on the extension, but she didn't dare risk getting caught. Besides, it was wrong.

"Yeah," he finally interjected, "but…" Another long pause followed. "She's family." Willow figured at that point that she was the subject of at least some of the conversation. More sort-of silence, punctuated by a few sputtering attempts at interruption from Spike, all of which failed, until, "Yeah, yeah, Peaches. Sure thing." He held the receiver out to Willow, who was sitting, white-knuckled and worried, waiting to find out just what was going on. "Dad wants to talk to you again."

She got up immediately and nearly grabbed the receiver out of his hand. Much to her shock, he walked out of the room without another word.

"Angel?" she said with some trepidation. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." The voice at the other end was a smooth, self-satisfied purr. She was reminded more than a bit of Angelus. Somehow, that didn't bother her nearly as much as she knew it should. Was that only because she knew he couldn't lose his soul with her or was there also a part of her that _liked_ Angel's demon?

"So, what did you guys talk about?" Smooth, Willow. Way to be cagy.

"Nothing much. I was just laying down a few ground rules for William, letting him know the way things will be when he lives under my roof."

"So it's okay, then? You aren't mad at me for inviting him? Because I couldn't just leave him here, not with Buffy dating Riley now and…"

"Willow," Angel interrupted. "It's okay." He paused for a moment. "Is there any reason in particular why you asked him without even telling me first?"

Oh crap. That was a really good question - not one she wanted to answer, but a really good question, nonetheless. She had hoped to have more time to come up with a safe and sanitized version of tonight's events and just how involved in the Initiative she had come to realize Riley actually was. Maybe if she said it all really fast Angel wouldn't realize she'd been in peril.

"Giles kind of got turned into a Fyarl demon and Spike and I had to help him and…well…the Initiative chased us, only Spike did this really neat evasive driving stuff just like in the movies and they all crashed into each other so we got away just fine and then we got to the motel where Ethan Rayne was and we got him to fix Giles and when it was over Riley whipped out his phone and called his commando headquarters and used a lot of official military talk that sounded…well, really _official_, like he was an in-charge guy talking to an even more in-charge guy and hey, I couldn't exactly leave Spike here after finding that out and…" What her explanation lacked in coherence, it made up for in speed, that was for sure.

"You were chased by the Initiative?" Angel's voice was cold and hard and Willow got the impression that her attempts to make it all sound like a quaint lark had failed miserably.

"Uh-huh," she answered, her voice shaking like leaves in a wind storm. So was _she_, for that matter.

"Well, then, it's a good thing I told Spike to pack. You'll be leaving tomorrow." He wasn't asking her. He was telling her.

A part of Willow wanted to protest that this wasn't the 18th century anymore and he really had no right to order her around. But there was a reason she was attracted to Angel's demon and the reason was…she didn't actually mind that he ordered her around -at least not as long as he kept it to a minimum and only when she was in danger that she more than likely wouldn't get out of if left to her own devices. Like now, for instance.

"Okay," she answered, a bit superfluously since she knew she hadn't actually had the option to disagree.

"I love you." The words shocked her, as did the sudden tremor in Angel's voice. She wanted to say that she loved him, too, but he hung up before she could say anything at all.

She listened to the dial tone for what might have been a very long time before she put the receiver down and went upstairs.

Angel loved her.

She wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

 

*****

 

Surprisingly, she was wrong about that. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and felt amazingly well-rested when she awoke at 7 A.M. She wondered about that fact and ran it through her mind over and over again, but she couldn't figure it out and finally decided that maybe she should just be grateful, go take a shower, and eat some breakfast before calling Giles to set up a goodbye meeting with her friends…oh, and Anya, since she and Xander were still joined at the genitals. She decided not to take Spike. If Buffy brought Riley, she would want to carefully edit her speech to exclude any mention of his departing with her. She didn't want Riley asking any questions about him and precipitating any revelations that would lead to him figuring out just where Hostile 17 had gone. After all, despite _Willow_ being the one with the rep as a bad liar, Buffy wasn't really any better. Especially not now that Willow's success with the "Aunt Esther" story seemed to indicate a greater facility at deception than she'd ever been suspected to possess.

She was out of the shower in a trice, her imminent reunion with Angel managing to keep any and all naughty thoughts at bay, and after brushing her teeth and hair, and getting dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. Spike's duffel (well, a duffel from her parents' closet she assumed contained Spike's things and – with any luck – _only_ Spike's things) sat on a chair next to the one where he sat drinking pig's blood from a coffee mug and staring at nothing Willow could discern.

"Hey," she said. Let no one accuse her of being a slouch in the witty banter department.

"Hey," he replied, obviously feeling she'd said it best and why mess with perfection.

"Looking forward to living in L.A.?" She showed a lot of teeth and hoped like heck it resembled a smile.

"Movin' back in with Dad? Sure thing." There was anything but a smile in return and Willow couldn't help but feel badly for him. It was sort of analogous to being a grown man who couldn't cut it out in the world and had to move into his parents' basement or something.

Now would so be a bad time to mention that she'd just seen a strong resemblance between Spike and Xander.

"It won't be so awful, Spike."

"I'm gathering Peaches didn't fill you in on the substance of our conversation then?"

"That bad?"

"Not if you don't mind enough rules to make a prison inmate chafe."

There really wasn't anything to say to that. She was pretty sure that Angel had only made pretty normal requests in terms of Spike's behavior, but then again, there _had_ been that Angelus-y tone in his voice and maybe he _had_ gone a bit overboard in the 'I am your sire and you'll do as I say' department.

She went to the freezer and took out a couple of frozen waffles. Not the most nutritious breakfast ever, but tasty in a 'processed food' sort of way and filled with enough carbohydrates to see her through a tough morning. She popped them into the toaster, got the margarine out of the fridge, and made the tough choice: powdered sugar or imitation maple-flavoured syrup. Given her upcoming challenges, she opted for the sugar rush and went back into the refrigerator for the box of fluffy, white, powdery goodness.

In a minute or two, she was sitting across from Spike. He looked askance at her culinary achievements, but she opted to ignore his rather snobbish expression. He was obviously stuck in a time warp free of modern convenience foods and where women or servants lived only to do the cooking. Welcome to the 21st century. She wasn't going to spend ages making batter and pouring it into a waffle iron after waking up at 4 A.M. to milk cows and churn her own butter just so she could have waffles.

It didn't take long for her to finish eating and she took her plate and cutlery to the sink. She was surprised when Spike not only brought his mug to her, but then nudged her out of the way and began washing the dishes.

"Thanks."

"It's nothing. I gotta have something to do while you call your little pals and say those tearful goodbyes. I'd rather deal with _these_ waterworks than those." Spike was so gracious.

Willow decided to start learning to accept that Spike was who he was. After all, it might come in handy when she had to mediate disputes between him and Angel. So she let Spike have the last word and went upstairs to pack before calling Giles. She didn't want to assume he was awake as early as she was after having been a demon the day before.

It occurred to her that it was about time she found that disc with the curse on it, so she started rooting through her stacks of computer stuff. Wow. She kept _everything_. That wasn't necessarily a sound practice, she realized as she found a disc containing that Doogie Howser fanfic she'd written long ago. Yikes. She carefully broke it into dozens of pieces and threw it away. No evidence, no crime, right?

Not long after splintering her youthful folly, she found what she was looking for: the disc. _The disc_.

No time like the present to find out what's what with your boyfriend's soul, she thought as she powered up her computer and popped the disc right in.

_Sprits of the Interrignum_…blah, blah, blah. The curse itself wasn't a whole lot of help. Just how good _were_ these Oracles? Willow wondered, because she wasn't altogether sure they could be trusted right now.

But wait…Jenny had made notes. Notes...in _English_. Yay! How great was that? Maybe the answer was somewhere in them.

And it was. Bless Jenny. Willow mentally hugged her, thanking her for continuing to be her friend even after she was dead and gone, because right here in the midst of some stream-of-consciousness rambling about just what was meant by the curse's stipulation about "Angel's soul no longer being a thing of torment to him" was what Willow was certain was the answer the Oracles had said she had: What it meant was that Angel had to feel _human_; to feel _at one _with that very soul; to lose the awareness that he was a demon at all.

That was what it had been like with Angel and Buffy.

That wasn't what it was like with Angel and Willow.

Now, suddenly, it all made sense. Because really, there had to have been times even before he and Buffy had sex when Angel wasn't completely and utterly tormented by his soul. By the time she met him, he actually seemed pretty used to it. He'd even joked with her about honing his brooding skills.

There was always something lost in translation. Willow was just so thankful that Jenny had found it.

She took out the disc and placed it reverently back in its case. Then she kissed the case. Then she turned off the computer. Wait 'til Angel heard the news.

She was almost in a daze as she packed. Sure, the Oracles had already given them the green light, but having confirmation finally made a believer out of her.

The funny thing was the guilt…the guilt that wasn't there anymore. Here she was, heading off to her happily ever after, and she didn't feel like she was taking something that belonged to Buffy anymore. One more thing to thank Jenny for. She'd remember her every day, as well, just like Jesse. Maybe she'd put up a little shrine to the both of them or something at her and Angel's place.

She did her packing in a trice. She figured she'd probably be forced into redoing her wardrobe by Cordelia, so she packed favorites and a few essentials but decided to leave most of her clothes behind. She did, however, pack up her photos, favorite books, and other mementos. Next , she called an auto glass company to arrange the repair of the window on her parents' car and used the credit card they allowed her 'for emergencies' to arrange for a rental car to take her and Spike to L.A., remembering to make sure the back windows had _dark_ tinting. She wasn't sure just when she and her light-sensitive companion would leave and it was better to be safe than sorry.

Was she really done? She supposed so as she looked at the plastic bag containing her toiletries. Now there was no excuse to postpone the inevitable. She picked up the phone again and called Giles.

"Hello?" the familiar British voice intoned.

"Hi, Giles." She tried hard to sound perky, but she already missed him and she wasn't even gone yet.

"Willow. How are you this morning?"

"Umm…fine, I guess." Why was that a tough question? "I kind of need to ask you a favour. Could you call Buffy and Xander and tell them that they need to be at your place soon for a meeting? I would call them, but they don't take me all that seriously and they'd probably just expect me to tell my news over the phone and…"

"I understand." Giles could obviously hear the emotion in her voice. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. And yes, I talked to Angel. There was a bunch of laying down ground rules and sire/childe stuff with Spike last night, but he seems to be okay with it, and…"

"And?"

"He told me he loves me."

"Oh."

"I know it's not your ideal for me, but he makes me happy and I love him, too, you know?"

"I would never want it said that I disapproved of you being happy."

Naturally, Willow had to blurt out something to ruin the almost-moment. "I found the curse today - the disc, I mean. There were notes and…yeah, Angel and I really are safe."

Jenny Calendar's name, while unspoken, hung over them; whether it was a chandelier or a guillotine blade, Willow could not be sure.

"That's…that's excellent news."

"I'm sorry. I really didn't handle telling you about that well, did I?"

It was almost a minute before Giles spoke again. "No need to apologize. I'm glad to know you have nothing to fear." There was a lump in his throat; Willow could hear that. But there was warmth, too, and he meant what he said.

She wanted to say something kind and comforting, something like "I know wherever she is that she still loves you", but she knew it would come out wrong and only cause him more pain.

"I better get off the phone so you can call Buffy and Xander."

"Yes, I suppose I should do that right now. You're leaving…?"

"Today. Angel kind of thought the sooner the better. I sort of mentioned getting chased by Riley's buddies last night and…"

"I'll tell them to be here within the hour."

"I'll be there." With that, Willow hung up the phone.

Now all she had to do was pick up the rental car and get her story straight. Oh goody. Nothing she was looking forward to more than offering a pack of lies as her parting gift to her best friends.

 

*****

 

Willow took a deep breath before reaching for Giles's door knob. She heard four voices inside: Giles, Buffy, Xander, and the dreaded Anya. She didn't hear Riley, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. She was glad it was only 11 A.M. That had made it easy to dissuade Spike from trying to accompany her. He might regret missing any potential discord, but not enough to risk bursting into flames.

"Hey, guys," she said as she walked in. Well, at least Riley wasn't there.

"Hey, Wills," Xander said with a mock chumminess that hurt. He wasn't even good at faking it anymore. Willow hoped with all her heart that absence really _did_ make the heart grow fonder, because she missed their former closeness more than ever right now. Inside her head, she promised Jesse she would try to fix things.

All the internal drama had caused a pause a bit too long not to be awkward and excite some curiosity. Except from Anya, of course, who merely sighed loudly and gazed at her nails as if she was wishing for a file. It made Willow realize that she wouldn't miss _everyone_.

"I guess you're all wondering why I asked Giles to gather you all here, huh?"

Another loud sigh from Anya. Surprisingly, it brought on a rebuke from Xander. "An, remember that courtesy thing we talked about?"

"I have to do that with _Willow_? I thought you said I only had to do that with _important_ people."

"An!" Xander whined.

A part of Willow wanted to say something nasty and cutting in response, but was that really how she wanted to be remembered as she drove away? No, it wasn't. So she bit her tongue – literally, in fact, and it hurt.

"I …uh…I got a job offer and I'm leaving Sunnydale."

"What?"

"What?"

"Good."

Giles, of course, stayed silent…and that did not go unnoticed.

"Did you know about this?" Buffy asked him, more than a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"I…well…yes, as a matter of fact, Willow told me last night."

"How come you knew before we did?" Buffy and Xander both rounded on Giles. Willow herself felt in danger of being forgotten as the discussion seemed about to become _about_ her without including her. No one was even looking at her anymore.

"Hey, guys." She spoke up, deciding to at least start her plan for new and improved relationships with her friends. "I'm standing over here. You can talk to _me_."

Oddly, Anya now wore an expression Willow was cautiously tempted to classify as admiring. Buffy and Xander just looked confused. "Yeah, you know, I am the one who wanted to talk to you guys and this is sort of about me, well, not even sort of, it actually _is_ about me…and my new job…and the fact that I'm leaving _today_."

"Will, we were just…you're leaving today?" Xander got it in one. Willow was nearly impressed. "But why?"

"Because it's a great job. I get to do all the things I do now, only I'll get paid for it."

"You mean you got a job doing that computer stuff? But can't you get a job doing that here?" Buffy managed to hurt Willow more than anyone had yet.

"No, Buffy, not just that computer stuff. Fighting evil, using my computer skills to find important information to help save the world, maybe a little magic – you know, all that stuff I've been doing with you since the 10th grade."

"Oh," Buffy replied, looking more puzzled than ever. "But what company does…" Her voice trailed off and Willow realized she had just figured it out. Wow. That was actually a pretty good bit of deduction. "You're going to work with Angel?" It sounded like a question, but it wasn't – not really.

"Yes, I am. He offered me a job and I took it."

Willow waited for the explosion. She knew there'd be one; all that remained to be seen was from which direction it would come.

"What?!?" Xander. Why was she not surprised? "You're going to work with Deadboy?"

"He goes by Angel these days, but yeah."

"Why?" This time Buffy was the one who asked. Her voice was soft and filled with pain. Well, it wasn't as if Willow had kidded herself into thinking Buffy was actually over Angel just because she was dating Riley.

"Because it's a good job. Because they really need me there. Because I'll be important and useful and part of a team again."

"But Will, you're part of a team here." Xander was looking at her with those brown, puppy-dog eyes. They didn't have the effect he was looking for.

"No, Xander, I'm not. When was the last time any of you spent five minutes with me without talking about me behind my back before I was even out of earshot? When was the last time you thought of me as a friend, and not as a burden whose problems are such a downer?"

"It's that bad?" He paused for a moment and then sank down on Giles's sofa. "Oh God, it's that bad."

Willow sat down next to Xander and put her hand on his shoulder. Of course, that elicited a comment from the peanut gallery.

"I don't talk behind your back. Well, yeah, I do, but I also complain right to your face." Anya had a point, Willow supposed. A bit of a pointless point, but a point, nonetheless.

She decided to ignore it, however. Anya wasn't exactly her friend and she would rather spend her last hours in Sunnydale worrying about people she actually liked. "It's my fault, too, Xan. It's not like I've said anything about it. I just kept letting things go on and acting like it was okay. But it's not and I should have said something a lot sooner."

"I'm sorry, too." Buffy sat down beside her and pulled her into a hug. "But you don't have to leave. Especially not now. How can we make it up to you if you're not here? I love you, Will."

Buffy meant it. Willow knew that. But it didn't change her mind. How could it? More than just a new job was waiting for her in L.A., though hopefully no one but Giles would ever know that.

"I love you, too. But I gave my word and besides, it's a great job. It's…what I want to do with my life. And hey, I can transfer to USC, or maybe even Cal Tech. They have some really cool courses I'd love to take and…"

"How did you end up getting a job offer from Angel, anyway?" Thanks, Anya.

"I…uh…I stopped by to see him when I was visiting my Aunt Esther and we got to talking and, well, Cordelia's not such a computer genius, or really the world's greatest research gal, so…"

"Doesn't your aunt live in Carmel?"

Again…great time to actually remember stuff, Xander. Quick, think of a good cover story. "She does. Only I had her transferred to Cedars-Sinai because they have some great specialists there."

"Oh." Xander and Buffy both looked convinced and Giles wore a credible expression of belief as well. Anya didn't seem to care.

"When are you leaving?" Anya asked.

"Probably this afternoon. I just have to make sure the car's all sun-proofed and everything." Now was as good a time as any, she supposed, to mention that Spike was going with her. "I don't want Spike immolating or anything on the drive there."

"Spike?" In two-part harmony, no less. Giles already knew and, of course, Anya still didn't care. At least not about the fact that he was leaving with her.

"You two really _are _having orgasms, aren't you? If you are, you really should pay me, because I'm the one who gave you the idea in the first place and…"

"An!"

"I'm not having sex with Spike."

"Then why are you taking him with you?"

"Yeah, Willow. Not that I'm not happy that you're not sleeping with Spike, because that's just…ewww…but why on Earth are you taking him with you? And how is Angel going to deal with that? He hates Spike."

"I already told him, Buffy, and he said it was okay. Besides, Spike will be living with me so Angel won't even have to see him." Was that a raised eyebrow on Giles's face? Willow wanted to glare at him, but she didn't dare. "And it's not like I can leave him here. Think about it. You're dating Riley. Grand Poobah of the Initiative? Spike would be in way too much danger of ending up back in a lab if he stayed here."

Buffy seemed about to protest, but Willow cut her off at the pass. "Look, I think Riley's a great guy and I'm all for you two crazy kids living happily ever after. But Spike's my friend and I have to think about him, too. I don't know much about Riley's commando buddies. Maybe what they're doing is a wonderful thing. If so, I'm all for it. But I'm not all for any of it happening to Spike again, okay?"

"Okay."

Xander nodded as well. Good. Everyone could agree on something.

"I love you guys. You know that, right?"

"We love you, too, Wills," Xander said, seemingly unconcerned as Anya glared daggers at him for using the "L" word in reference to another woman.

"He's right. But you're not gonna be gone forever, right? You'll visit and stuff and maybe move back here someday…soon?" Buffy hugged her again, using a bit too much of the Slayer strength. Willow coughed, trying to alert Buffy to an increasingly urgent need to breathe. She got the hint. "Sorry," she said as she patted Willow's arm. "Occupational hazard."

"I'll visit. I promise. And there's these neat things called phones, and I promise to use them, okay?" She had neatly sidestepped the issue of moving back and no one seemed the wiser. Hurrah.

"I'll hold you to that."

"You got it."

Xander reached over and pulled her into a hug. "What am I gonna do without you, Wills?" he whispered. "Sunnydale's down to its last Musketeer now."

That brought her to tears at last. He hadn't forgotten Jesse. "We'll always be the Three Musketeers, no matter where we are."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"You know what this occasion calls for?" a watery-eyed Buffy bounced to her feet and proclaimed. "Mochas! How else can we send Willow off to battle smog and other scary things in L.A.?"

General words of agreement were heard all 'round and the five of them made their way out to Willow's rental car.

She gazed in the rearview mirror at Buffy and Xander and Anya in the back seat and then beside her at Giles. It was going to hurt so much more to leave them than she'd thought it would only a few short days ago. Oddly, she was glad of that. She had her friends back, her _family_ back, and that was a good thing - a very good thing, indeed.

The End...but watch for the sequel, _Boats Against the Current_.


End file.
